mental changes

1
Honey Bunny: An Easter Tale
2
Santa Babe 2: Elfsurrection
3
Virtually Twisted (Revised) | Pt 38
4
Virtually Twisted (Revised) | Pt 37
5
Virtually Twisted (Revised) | Pt 36
6
Virtually Twisted (Revised) | Pt 35
7
Virtually Twisted (Revised) | Pt 34
8
Virtually Twisted (Revised) | Pt 33
9
Virtually Twisted (Revised) | Pt 32
10
Virtually Twisted (Revised) | Pt 31

Honey Bunny: An Easter Tale

Author's Note

This tale is set in the same story universe as both of my Santa Babe stories, but can be read as a standalone. Like those stories it is a bit more graphic and fetishy than my usual stuff. This time around, the story features Anthropomorphic rabbits, basically Easter Bunnies who transform (more or less) into humans. It also contains very light female domination.

“Jack.” Peter rolled his eyes, speaking with a forced almost condescending tone, a fat hand motioning with a broad sweeping gesture. “I get where you’re coming from, I really do, but children these days don’t care about this stuff.” The other rabbit lifted the egg from the display stand, fingering it idly, a frown, or a close approximation of one, creasing his short snout and tossed it into the waste bin beside his desk.

I leaned back in my seat and rocked my head back and forth, fighting hard to keep my anger from showing on my face. Egg-painting had become something of a lost art among the bunnies of the Spring Valley Warren. It was a tragedy we’d been so quick to discard our traditions to appease the humans.

My father would be hanging his head in shame if he were alive to see Peter, his chosen successor, disregard our people’s ancient customs with such callous indifference. It was too bad I’d been so uninterested in succeeding my father in my youth. Perhaps things would be different if I had followed in his footsteps like he wanted me to.

“I realize your dad was into this stuff and I understand you want to honor him, but we’re in the business of bringing happiness and joy to all the children of this region. That is particularly important with this pandemic that is spreading all over the world.”

I folded my arms across my chest and sighed.

We were just one conclave of Easter bunnies. Though we possessed a modicum of magic, it wasn’t quite on the scale of our Christmas counterpart, the Santa Claus. We couldn’t freeze time, or travel at rocket speeds. Instead, we traversed The Burrows, a system of magical tunnels capable of transporting us substantial distances in a fraction of time. It was one thing to send a bunny from Germany to Bavaria, it was another matter to send one clear across the Atlantic Ocean.

When the Easter traditions spread to the Americas, our brothers and sisters in Europe became overwhelmed by the demands for their services. So our ancestors founded new warrens, each with their own ‘Easter Bunny’ calling the shots and overseeing the operations of the entire warren. Though humans couldn’t distinguish the difference between a helper bunny and our exalted leader, in our case Peter, no rabbit of the warren would dare refer to themselves as The Easter Bunny, we were mere helpers.

“Look, would you just drop this shit and get back to work? Easter is less than a week away and we have a deadline to meet.” Peter adjusted his reading glasses and returned his attention to the stack of papers on his desk. In his mind, he’d already dismissed me. I supposed I should be thankful. Most times he yelled at me. Compared to our previous encounters, this one was downright friendly.

I rose to my feet, collecting the display stand and my basket of eggs, then retreated from the office, head hanging between my shoulders. This was not my first attempt at trying to revive our people’s egg-painting traditions, and it had been no less successful than the previous ones. This time, I had taken months learning and honing my skills, hoping that a demonstration might sway Peter better than words had, but as usual he’d been more interested in deadlines and paperwork.

I cursed myself and retreated home. My work shift would begin in less than an hour and if I wasn’t on the factory floor, there would be hell to pay. The other rabbit was a stickler for tardiness and I still needed to complete a few tasks at home.

Work was sure to be hell, I doubt I’d heard the last from Peter. Even on the best days, he bullied and demeaned me. I was, after all, his favorite target.

“Hey Jack,” a sweet feminine voice spoke out of the fog of my funk and my head jerked up, eyes focusing to find a familiar face staring back at me.

“Hey Esther,” I glanced up at her, a long plaintive sigh escaping my mouth.

Esther worked for the Inter-warren Postal Service, and my place was the last on her route, so I frequently ran into her on the way home from work.

“Bad day on the production line?” Esther asked, hand grappling inside of her mail bag.

That was an understatement, Peter had been on my ass from the moment I stepped out on the floor. He’d gotten me so self-conscious I’d gotten the mixture wrong on one of the machines and ruined an entire batch of chocolates. Peter had erupted in a fit of rage, humiliating me in front of the entire factory floor. I was lucky he hadn’t fired me on the spot, but then he would have lost his favorite little punching bag. Instead, he docked my pay and put me at the top of the overtime list for the next three weeks.

I peered around, realizing that I was just a few doors down from my place. I’d been pretty much on autopilot since the fiasco at work, and my walk home through the tunnels had been no exception. My eyes settled on each of the brightly decorated holes, festooned with the bright pastel colors of Easter, and sighed when my eyes fell on my home. Caught up with my egg painting I’d neglected decorating my place which, I doubt, would win me friends with any of my neighbors.

“Uh,” I scratched my neck, doing my best to avoid making eye contact with Esther.

“Oh, God,” she groaned. “Don’t tell me you went to Peter about the eggs, again.”

“Guilty,” I grimaced, dropping both my hands and cupping my face.

She sighed and reached out to pull my hands away from my face. “Okay, tell you what. Why don’t I come over tonight? I can cook you a nice homemade meal and we can have a long chat and I’ll help you forget all about it.” A coy smile spread over her muzzle and she raised a single eyebrow as her fingers traced over my chest.

I froze, mouth agape, and stood there like a jack ass. Esther was a friend, a good one, but I’d never considered her to be anything else. I never thought of her that way, even if I had, I doubt I would have worked up the nerve to ask her out.

She raised an open palm, tilted my chin up, forced my mouth closed and smiled. “Well?”

“Uh, yeah sure,” I replied letting loose a nervous little chuckle.

“Great!” She beamed. “I’ll be over say, eight?”

I nodded, still trying to process what had just happened. She turned to leave, then turned back, reaching inside of her bag. “Hey, you don’t mind saving me a few steps and taking your mail now do you?

I nodded, smacking my lips. My mouth seemed just a little dry. She slipped my mail into my hands and leaned in to peck me on the cheeks. She didn’t say another word, but winked at me and started walking away. I watched her depart, her nice hips swaying as she walked. I swallowed, and started back toward my place, numb to everything but the memory of her lips on my cheek.

Not until I got back home did I realize I was holding a christmas-red package about eight-inches long, about half as wide and deep and pretty damned hefty. I set the envelopes down on the counter and eyed the package, examining the flowing script on the tag.

Samson, I mused, eying the box. A few years back, the Santa Claus and Samson, one of his helper elves, paid a visit to our little burrow on a diplomatic visit, and the old man had spent most of the trip in an out of the way drinking hole on the other side of the warren, blind stinking drunk. I’d had the unfortunate privilege of spending his entire trip babysitting the miserable old bastard.

The only plus side was I’d gotten to know Samson and he seemed like a pretty stand-up guy. We’d corresponded when possible and gotten to be friends. It had been a while since I’d heard from the wry little elf, but it appeared he’d at last gotten around to answering my last letter.

The return label was written in a flourishing script I recognized as the elf’s, but oddly he’d signed it Sammie Twinklebottom instead of Samson, and it looked a little more bubbly and feminine then I remembered. Still, I didn’t think much of it at the time, my thoughts still on Esther.

I plopped the box atop the counter, pulled the ribbon and tape off and popped it open to reveal two liquid-filled bottles nestled within. The fluid inside the first of the odd rectangular containers was baby blue and the other, a soft powder-pink. Though I didn’t take time to read the letter in the sealed envelope wedged between the pair of bottles, I had a good idea what they contained.

Knowing Samson, I guessed it to be some kind of liqueur, the elves loved their spirits and they liked them sweet. During Santa’s first day at the bar, Samson spent twenty minutes complaining about the old man’s alcoholism while sneaking sips of something sweet smelling from his flask. He was an odd fellow to be sure, but I’d enjoyed his company.

The trouble was his taste in beverages, were just a tad sweet for my tastes and considering I devoted most of my days to filling chocolates into molds that said something. I pulled the bottles from the box, and slipped them inside the cupboard, retrieved the envelope with Samson’s letter and tossed the box into the garbage pail which was heaped so high, the package just tumbled to the ground.

I winced, peering around at my pig sty of a kitchen. A mixed assortment of cooking and egg-painting implements covered most of the counter space and about half of the tabletop and the sink was so full of dirty dishes I’d pretty much given up on using the faucet for the foreseeable future. I couldn’t tell you the last time I’d swept or done the dishes, but it had been at least a month. Needless to say, I had my work cut out for me.

I sighed, shaking my head. Already forming a plan. My mental checklist of chores supplanted thoughts of the package and it slipped from my mind.

I didn’t read the note until much later and by then it was too late. As much as I enjoyed the cranky elf’s letters, Samson tended to be a bit of a windbag. If I knew then what I know now, things would have turned out a fair bit different.

I retreated to my room, dropping the letter on my night stand, and retrieved a spare set of clothes, tossed them into the bathroom and got to work cleaning. I’d need to hurry if I were to get everything cleaned and still have time for a shower.

“Hey.” Esther stood in the doorway, paper sack clutched in both hands. I stared, jaw going slack. She wore a rather simple skirt and blouse combination. The entire time I’d known her, which had been most of my life, I hadn’t once seen her wear anything so feminine. Though it was simple, it looked good on her, and hugged her curves in interesting ways.

“Jack? You gonna ask me in?” She leaned forward, glancing through the doorway.

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” I mumbled stepping back and motioned forward with an exaggerated sweeping gesture. “Come in.”

I forced a smile and she pressed her lips together, slipping past me and dropped the bag onto the counter. She turned back to me, pulling a strand of snowy-white hair from her eyes and collecting it behind her ears. “Listen, Jack, I know I sort of threw you through a loop today. I wanted you to know that I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. You’re the only guy who’s ever treated me right, and this whole time you’ve been right there. I-I just thought maybe…”

She trailed off, all wide-eyed uncertainty. I nodded, and moved up beside her, slipping both hands over either of her shoulders. “I-I was a little flustered, I admit, but ever since you invited yourself over, all I’ve been able to think about is you. It’s funny how something can stare you right in the eyes, and it takes a proverbial slap in the face before you finally notice.”

She smiled and nodded, leaning in for a kiss. This time, it was more than a simple peck and lasted seconds, but boy did it leave me wanting more. She cleared her throat and pulled away. “Uh, well, I guess I should get started.”

I nodded, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood and watched her get to work. Esther was pretty, in a girl-next-door kind of way, but a far cry from what most bunnies would consider beautiful. Her figure was too round, her snow-white fur a bit too dull, and her ears always seemed to tilt at an odd angle. That being said, I’d never found a female more attractive in my life. She had such energy, a girlish vitality that had never faded as she aged, though she was now a few months shy of thirty. She was kind, generous and open-minded, and I added, she had great legs and not to mention a nice set of cans. It felt odd thinking about her that way, but once I started looking, I couldn’t unsee it nor did I want to.

“So, um I don’t know what you had planned for drinks, but that package that came today had something I thought maybe you’d enjoy.” I moved to the cupboard where I’d left the bottles sent by Samson and slipped a hand inside blindly grabbing one from within the cupboard. Esther turned away, now rifling through her bag, and I glanced down at the bottle of pink fluid clutched in my hands. I felt a pang of disappointment, but I suppose it was for the best. Despite being a notorious tomboy, she always went for the girliest drinks.

She swung back toward me, a bundle of carrots and greens clenched in either hand, gave me an appraising look, then stuck her chin out toward the bottle.

“All I had time to grab was some Carrot Schnapps. So, yeah, we can try it. Might be interesting, why don’t you pop it open. It might help us loosen up a bit.”

The words seem innocuous enough, but she spoke them with a sensuous, husky quality to her voice that gave the statement a whole different meaning. I swallowed, fixing a hand over the stopper and pulled, almost hitting myself in the face with the back of my hand when it came loose.

She slipped her hand around the bottle, and I released my hold, allowing her to take it. She brought it up to her nose, taking a good long whiff before locking her lips around it, threw her head back and took a good long gulp.

When she at last dropped the bottle from her lips, wiping them clean with the back of her arm, she held it out to me. I swallowed, harder this time, and took it from her hands. I mimed her earlier motions, sniffing the concoction, and stopped pursing my lips.

Aside from the strong scent of alcohol which burned my nostrils, it was if someone had taken everything soft and feminine and bottled it as a liquid, it was flowery and fruity and sugary, but there was something more to it which I couldn’t identify. When I smelled it, I thought of a beautiful sex-goddess of a woman, breasts heaving as she drew in breath and hips swaying with each step. My heart pounded in my rib cage and I hesitated. Something was weird about the whole situation. I don’t think Samson would send me anything poisonous, but it raised the hackles on my neck. I started to set the bottle back down, but then I locked gazes with Esther. She arched an eyebrow and cocked a smile as if to say, ‘Oh, come on, stop being so silly.’

I exhaled, then brought the bottle to my mouth,chugged it until my throat burned and slapped it on the countertop. It was everything I expected, sweet, fruity and every bit as strong as whiskey.

Esther hunched over, and I lurched toward her. A wave of dizziness washed over me and braced I myself against the counter before I could reach her.

She fell forward, hands thrown up at the last moment, fur now falling from her skin in patches.

Oh god. What was going on?

I scrambled forward, still spinning, but leveraged myself and dropped to my knees beside her. She peered up, and my breath caught in my throat. Not a single shred of hair remained on her face. She groaned as the skin around her muzzle rippled and contorted. I reached out, but a loud crack reverberated through my wrist and I cradled it against my chest, raw hot pain pulsating up and down my arm.

I threw my right arm out, tearing the sleeve of my shirt up my arm, in time to see chunks of brown fur fall away in clumps. It was no coincidence that it was happening to me too. That strange concoction must be to blame. I shuddered, a pit forming in my stomach, thinking back to the feminine aromas that had emanated from the drink.

Flesh bubbled and stretched, reshaping wherever the fur fell away. The bones in my hand popped, my palm becoming a little less rounded, my fingers thinned out and lengthened. Claws crunched, spreading out, flattening to become fingernails. My shoulder popped and I dropped my hand. I hunched over, howling in pain, my insides roiling. I wanted to scream, but the best I manage between stabs of pain was a soft miserable moan.

My chest tingled and I brought my hands up, the transformed one looking quite dainty and very human, the other was unchanged, but a quick look at Esther told me all I needed to know. She peered back at me with a human face, panting between a set of pouty lips, breasts heaving with each breath.

A sickening crack sounded inside my ribs and I tore the front of my blouse open. I watched with wide-eyes as two mounds rose from my now hairless flesh. I shuddered, panting and heaving, groaning with each pop that sounded through my insides.

I clenched my eyes shut, too terrified to watch the remaining changes, but while I didn’t see them, I felt the bones snap and reforming inside of me. My other shoulder crunched, and my eyelids flew back open as I gasped for breath. When my hips changed, they each snapped with such force it vibrated through my whole body.

The tissue of my left arm continued to mold and reshape, but I managed to fling my right hand between my legs, feeling for familiar contours through the crotch and legs of my jeans. My manhood remained intact, but I doubted that it would stick around for much longer. I traced my fingers along my hips and waistline. The former seemed so huge! It seemed so out of place. The latter felt so narrow, so dainty, I could have easily wrapped one arm around it before my transformation.

Then it came, a sharp jab of pain and a pulling sensation in my nether region. My hand slipped inside my pants and shot into my crotch like a bullet. My fingers wrapped around my dick in time for it to slither away inside my fingers. My balls contorted and reformed, molding like putty in some invisible hand. I clawed at the flesh, a futile and irrational attempt at preventing the change. Within a few seconds my testicles squeezed into my skin, reshaping into a smooth hairless vagina.

I fell back, panting for air and stared up at the ceiling, tears rolling down my cheeks. It wasn’t only from the pain I wept, but for the loss of my masculinity and my bunnanity. My transformation continued unabated, hair falling away on my legs and feet, flesh twisting, knees popping and inverting and my spine creaking and reshaping.

Then it started, a trickle in my throat, followed by a burning. I took a breath, but could not exhale. The flesh of my neck oozed around, merging and reforming, and I flailed about, my lungs burning from the lack of oxygen intake. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision and a strange calm came over me. Then air flooded back into my lungs and I jerked upright, both hands clasped over my throat.

A high feminine wail escaped my lips, and I sat there panting, sharp pain shooting up and down my face. Esther knelt beside me, her human face peering at me, her quivering bunny ears her only recognizable features save that they were now pink. A shock of short white hair was all that remained of her once luxurious coat.

There was a pressure in my face, as cracks and pops reverberated through my skull, and my muzzle slurped away retracting until it was flat. There was a strange plumping sensation and my lips took on more human proportions. A creak sounded from my face, when a human nose wiggled its way into place. The last few changes settled in, a strange burning in my eyes, followed by tufts of hair cascading from my scalp with an explosion of itches and tingles, and the pain faded into a dull throb, before, at last, disappearing.

I sat there and leaned back against the kitchen island, gasping and panting for breath. Esther studied me, her new countenance an expressionless mask. Her eyes were another story. They were wide with mixed confusion, shock, concern and something I couldn’t quite identify. She pursed her plump lips together, a hand reaching out to cup one of my naked breasts.

“God,” she moaned and leaned in, her lips brushing mine.

Then I understood. Something stirred inside me, a wild unyielding need, a sexual desire so strong and so pervasive all I could do was give in to it. I leaned forward, pressing my lips into hers, locking them into an open-mouthed kiss. When two bunnies kissed, they just pressed the ends of their muzzles together. Their mouths weren’t pliable enough for anything else, but our new human lips were capable of so much more.

Esther moaned, both hands now kneading my breasts, her body throbbing against mine. My lips worked their way down her neck, and my hands unclasped the buttons of her blouse. A flurry of hair, trapped inside during her transformation, fluttered away, and I got my first look at her chest, human or otherwise. God, they looked glorious.

I kissed her nipples, and she moaned in pleasure. Her hands reached for my waistband and the button came away. She peeled the fabric away, which was stretched tight across my widened hips, and after repeating the process with my boxers, my new pussy lay exposed to the air. She grinned from ear to ear and slid her index and middle fingers inside the crevice. I gasped, a low stifled groan emanating from my mouth and I shuddered from pure orgasmic pleasure.

Our love making continued, unabated, for what seemed like hours. I experienced more orgasms in that one night then I’d had at any point prior. I didn’t care that Samson’s drink had transformed me or that I’d, more or less, become a member of a different species. All that mattered was the sex, and it was spectacular.

When at last we separated, I laid on the ground, eyes closed, a smile touching my lips. Not once in my almost thirty years had I experienced pleasure so all-encompassing, so overpowering I couldn’t stop myself.

It didn’t matter, I had become a walking wet dream for the hordes of human males who lived on the surface. I yearned for more, yearned to make love to Esther again, and… to have a big fat cock hammer into my tight pussy. Even so, I was curious about the strange beverage that had prompted our transformation and that is what won out.

I opened my eyes and sat up, a soft moan escaping from my lips. I stretched my arms, my large pert breasts jiggling on my chest. It was an unusual, but not unwelcome sensation. I stood, locking eyes with Esther for the first time since we’d finished fucking each other.

She did not speak, but watched me, keen interest reflected in her eyes. I padded across the floor, my bare human feet slapping against the hard ceramic tiles. Over the course of our lovemaking, we’d disrobed one another and scattered bits of our clothing about the kitchen.

I sauntered over to the cabinet, a slight shiver working its way down my spine as I let my hips sway. I retrieved the bottle of blue fluid and set it next to the pink one.

“So,” I said, my voice light and airy, and so very feminine. “If the pink one does this,” I motioned down at my wondrous knew hourglass figure. “I betcha the blue one does all sorts of interesting things.”

I shivered at the prospect. Though I had no intention of trying it out myself, there were plenty of other bunnies who might be persuaded to give it a go. I imagined Peter transformed, his big hard cock pulsating inside of me, his muscled frame throbbing against my soft feminine body and I moaned, licking my lips.

That was assuming the blue drink wasn’t intended for something else. I thought back to Samson’s letter, the almost feminine quality of his writing and the fact that he’d scrawled Sammie on the package. What she must look like, so dainty and small.

I stopped long enough to tell Esther I’d be back with something I hoped would explain everything and slipped out of the kitchen. Making my way up the stairway and into my bedroom, I retrieved the letter from my end stand. When I turned to leave, I caught my reflection from the corner of my eye and stopped to study my new features. My new face was oval-shaped and framed by a shock of messy dark, almost black hair, a nice petite little nose and a smile that would have most men and a few women eating out of my hands. Good god, I was gorgeous. As I had only ever seen a handful of humans face to face, I had difficulty pegging my physical age, but the firmness of my breasts and the softness of my skin suggested I was on the younger side, perhaps in my early twenties.

I slid a hand over my locks to straiten them, but gave it up. The mirror was a small decorative piece my mother had hung years before her death. It was now level with my face, meaning I’d lost a good three or four inches in height. I brushed my hands through my hair along the side of my head, where human ears would be, but I found nothing save for soft velvety skin and hair. I tilted my head down trying to get a better look up top and furrowed my eyebrows, my ears were pink like Esther’s.

Absently fingering my ears, I studied my reflection a few moments longer and withdrew from the room. Sliding a hand down my back as I walked, I was oddly comforted to discover I still had my fluffy little bunny tail.

I found Esther waiting in the front room, sprawled naked upon the couch, flipping through an old book as if it were the most normal thing in the world. When she turned to meet my gaze, I stopped, studying her pink ears, a near match to mine, perched atop her snow-white crown.

It was difficult to tell, since she was sitting down, but she looked about the same height as before. Her form however, had changed in almost every way, her breasts were larger even than mine, but not so large they seemed disproportionate, her hips were only a little narrower than my own, and I thought, perhaps, her and I were about the same age.

I smiled, shivering at the memory of fucking her, and took a seat beside her. She leaned in close, her breasts pressed against my side and I released a contented sigh. I experienced none of the nervous anticipation from before. All of that had disappeared the moment I’d changed. I felt a confidence I’d never possessed before.

I caressed my lips with my tongue and clasped the envelope in my lap, tracing the wax seal with my finger-tip. Only an elf would be so old fashioned. So adorable… It was almost a shame to open it, but curiosity won out. I tore it open, slicing through it with the tip of my fingernail.

I removed the papers, back folded them, and flipped through them. There were more than a dozen individual papers, each filled back and front. Like I said, Samson tended to be a motor-mouth. About half way through the stack, a photograph fluttered out, landing on the coffee table. I reached out, flipped it face up and found myself looking at a rather provocative image of two beautiful ladies posing naked. A tall gorgeous brunette with bright blue eyes, hips that made me want to salivate and round large breasts, clutched at the form of a smaller woman with strawberry-blonde locks, elvish ears and a killer figure. I dropped the photo, bit my lips and mustered all my willpower in order to return my attention to Samson’s letter instead of fingering myself.

The first three and a half pages was a letter detailing Saint Nicholas’s accidental ingestion of something called the Aphrodite Potion, Samson’s resulting exposure and their subsequent efforts to spread as much of the strange brew through the North Pole, including an interesting situation with the Elvish Council of Elders. Towards the end of the letter Sammie mentioned the Adonis Formula, the blue beverage in the box, was a prototype potion designed to invoke a more masculine transformation.

She ended the letter, with well wishes and was hopeful that I would find the enclosed photo a titillating example of what the Aphrodite formula was capable of doing. She then remarked that I should give it a try for myself, it had sparked a “renewed passion “for life and that perhaps it could do the same for me.

I shivered again at the prospects now laid out before me, and turned to Esther detailing everything to my lover, grinning from ear to end, imagining Nikki and Sammie fucking my brains out. I might have found Sammie’s letter alarming had I not experienced the transformative effect for myself, but knowing what I did it was all I could do to contain my excitement.

Sammie gave me everything I’d need in the letter, the formula for both potions, tips for brewing, dosages, everything for which a sexy bunny girl could ask. I learned another interesting tidbit that produced a giggle of excitement. When the Adonis formula was combined with its counterpart, it made for some very… interesting results.

I pressed my lips together, a plan beginning to formulate in my mind.

“So, is it permanent?” Esther asked, and I stopped staring back at the other woman, surprised by the question, my mind already a thousand miles away.

“Uh, yeah,” I said offering her a reassuring smile and rifled through the pages until I, again, found the section detailing dosages. “Apparently, the bottle we drank out of contains a concentrated formula. It varies by body weight and metabolism, but if these numbers are correct. I’d say we drank several times over the recommended dose, so I don’t think there’s any chance of reverting.”

She released a long breath of air, and I grinned at her, licked my lips and shared with her my plan. With any luck, I could have my cake and eat it too.

It was late, into the early hours of the morning, most of the populace was asleep or at least making a stab at it. It was dark in the warren, but it was always dark. We lived underground. During daytime hours, smokeless torches, kept alight by magic unfathomable to humans, rimmed the corridors, but they only provided a modicum of illumination. At this late hour, only a handful remained lit.

It was fortunate, then, that Esther and I had retained such excellent night vision. I doubted human eyes would have provided us with clear enough sight to find our way. Our town was small in human terms, spanning just under a square mile, and Peter’s home wasn’t all that far from mine, anyway.

Peter had dedicated himself to his work, spending long hours away from home, and had never gotten married. He lived alone, which suited our purposes just fine.

I paused just out of range of the porch light and again pondered what we were about to do. Esther would never have gone along with my plan before her transformation and I wouldn’t have come up with such a harebrained solution were I not being influenced by my new libido. The disconcerting part was I didn’t find it the least bit disturbing, knowing that I planned to change someone else’s life just for my own gain. I should have, and that scared me, but not enough to keep me from going through with the plan.

I licked my lips, just the thought of what we were about to do producing a shiver of excitement. My lady parts quivered in anticipation.

I glanced back at Esther, who watched me with nervous anticipation. She wore a pair of my sweats and a dark long-sleeve shirt, and a similar ensemble adorned my frame. Neither one of us had clothes that fit us particularly well, and after discussing my plans we’d decided that we needed to act before word of our transformations spread through the warren. We’d grabbed what we could find in my rather sparse wardrobe which would fit over our new frames.

I motioned her forward and crept toward Peter’s home. We weren’t worried about getting in, no door within the warren had locks. Our prime concern was being seen. There weren’t many bunnies up this late, but you could never be too cautious.

We were inside in moments, and without delay made our way through the house, creeping on bare feet. Esther found his room, waving me inside with hurried motions. I stepped inside and barely managed to stifle a giggle. Peter, though fast asleep, had a massive erection.

It must be a sign, I told myself, reaching into my pocket and produced a small tube of violet fluid, a diluted mixture of the two potions. I knelt beside his bed, unstoppered the potion and popped the open end into his mouth. I tilted his head back, forced his mouth closed, and massaged his throat.

Peter came awake with a start, sitting bolt upright, coughing and wheezing, but I’d done my job. Other than a few droplets, none of the potion came back up.

“What the hell? Who are you? What’s going on here?” Peter glanced between the two of us, eyes wide as saucers, speaking between coughs.

“Oh, Peter,” I said a soft gentle tone to my voice, much like a mother soothing a child. “You’ll understand very soon.”

“Look human, I don’t know what you think you’re doing in my ho–” He never finished the sentence. A gurgle sounded from his throat, and he hunched over, clutching at it.

He took a nose dive, and I barely caught him before he face-planted, but I managed. My arms and back burned from the effort. Somehow I pulled him back on to the bed and collapsed atop it beside him, gasping and heaving. I hadn’t realized how much strength I’d lost from my transformation, and I lay there, experiencing the slightest pang of regret.

I shook my head, craning my neck down at my melons and smiled. The odd brief moment of loss evaporated away. My loss of strength was a small price to pay in exchange for the carnal delights my new body offered.

A soft feminine moan sounded from Peter’s lips and I pulled myself back up, determined not to miss any more. A slender and quite lovely furless neck, far too small to support his large head, had taken up residency upon his shoulders.

Fur dropped from his face in swathes, and the skin beneath bubbled and contorted, reshaping and smoothing out. Bones cracked in his face, his snout retracting in on itself. A blood-curdling scream escaped his mouth as his new face snapped into place. Smooth almost milky-white skin now covered a soft delicate almost doll-like face which was framed by silken honey-blonde hair. Instead of turning pink like mine, his ears shifted to a lovely violet shade. Pouty lips and a tiny button nose complemented his wide doe-eyes and generous eyelashes quite well.

I didn’t yet know just how much height Peter would lose, but if the size of his dainty little head were any sign, he would be quite the petite little thing. I shivered in anticipation.

Peter lay there, panting like a dog and I unbuttoned the front of his pajama shirt as his shoulders snapped and cracked, matte grey fur fluttered away as if carried off on a wind, soft milky human skin took its place. His shoulders narrowed, and the transformation trickled down his arms and chest. A loud crack and a crunch sounded from within his limbs and chest, fat collected beneath his nipples and soon a pair of beautiful round breasts swelled out from his flesh.

He cried out, howling in misery, and arched his back, the contours of his spine snapping into a new alignment. Each crack and pop produced a fresh change. His waistline shrank down, and his hips did too. Legs and feet shortened to match, and soon a tiny little slip of a woman sat bolt upright, frantically pulling at her pajama bottoms.

My hands shot out to help, but she swatted them away with a frantic sweep of her arm. When the last of her clothes came free, she gasped and stared down between her legs. Though she had the usual female parts, she still had a cock.

On a male Peter’s former size, it would have been above average. On her new tiny frame, it appeared massive. She grasped hold of it, her second hand slipping up her chest to knead a breast. The fear and panic that had marked her features before, faded away and a slow dreamy smile stretched across her face. She fell onto her back, and I crawled over to her, kissing Peter’s soft feminine lips. Her raging hard-on pressed into my hip, and I pulled away, hands reaching for the waist of my sweats.

Though Peter’s transformation was temporary, I full intended to give her a fully test-drive. Once I’d disrobed, I wasted no time, working my lips up and down her soft, feminine form. Esther joined in, pressing her breasts into my back, hands pushed into my breasts. Though we’d fucked each other silly a few hours before, we were ready for more.

Peter had always been the leader of the pack, always the dominate male, even when we were children. It was my turn to dominate her, and she yielded like wax to the flame. When I permitted her to penetrate my cunt, there was no doubt who was in charge. I rode on top.

Things turned out pretty much how I planned them. After our first night together Peter was like clay, so easy to mold and shape. Though she reverted to her old form a few hours after her transformation, she hadn’t been the same old Peter. When we made love, she’d let me take the reins. There was a clear shift in power and we both knew it.

The first time she reverted, the dear thing begged me on her hands and knees to change her again, and I relented the very next night. I needed her to be Peter during the day, but at night, so long as she behaved, she was my little toy. Though the transformation was agonizing, she seemed more than happy to undergo it if there was even the slightest chance Esther and I would provide her with the sweet pleasures of the flesh. When she asked me for a new name, I knew she was firmly in my web, and so she became my little Honey Bunny, and I her mistress.

Esther, of course, was mainly along for the ride and was happy to do anything I asked her in bed. In her I found the partner I’d so long desired. Honey was just my plaything, but with Esther our connection wasn’t just physical, I cared for her even loved her.

‘Peter’ covered for my disappearance, saying that she’d sent me on a special errand. No one questioned it. She was, after all, the Easter Bunny. Esther was another story, she was not employed in the factory and thus Peter could not speak for her. No one knew of our burgeoning romance, but we’d long been close and all it had taken was a few whispers here or there. According to the stories, Esther left with me, having at last admitted her true feelings. There were other rumors too, ones of a darker nature, but no one stepped forward with concrete proof and they left the matter hanging.

A few days after Easter, the first transformations took place. We’d been pretty random about who we picked and were careful not to drug any children. At first there was panic and finger-pointing, but as the changes continued night after night, and little by little attitudes shifted. Though many tried, none determined a cause. A few fled the warren in fear, but even interference from the other warrens did little to slow the onslaught of transformations. Soon, with the help of a select few unwitting dupes, we disseminated the potions to the other warrens.

We even began making our own formula from scratch. Roughly half of those we transformed were given the Aphrodite formula, an eighth the Adonis, and the rest what we dubbed the Hermaphroditus formula, the same mix that I’d given Honey.

I enjoyed riding the cock of a big hunk of a man as much as the next girl, but males had a lot of silly ideas. I should know I used to be one. It was best to keep them in the minority so us ladies might have a turn at the wheel. Those transformed by the Hermaphroditus formula weren’t a problem. Something about their transformations made them so pliable, they did pretty much anything we told them.

Before long, those who’d been changed outnumbered those who had not and as I hoped, the females were the ones who filled the power vacuum. By then everyone knew the truth, but those that were transformed didn’t care and the rest had given up hope of things ever returning to normal.

Jack was all but a bad memory, I’d become a vibrant, confident, and sexy woman, I took a name that fit the new me. Briana, it made me feel sexy as hell and I think it fit pretty well. Esther also adopted a new moniker. She confessed to me, she’d never really liked Esther much to begin with and since we’d already changed so much why keep such a ghastly name? Etta seemed to fit her just fine.

That was when I made my return to public life, with Esther in tow, revealing that I had been behind the entire thing. There had been so very many thankful bunnies that there was a campaign to name me the new Easter Bunny. I hadn’t asked for it, but who was I to argue with the will of the people? I at last permitted Peter to become Honey full time and other than the rampant sex, and the tide of transformed bunnies, everything returned to normal, save for one little thing.

My first act as Easter Bunny was to put a new emphasis on hand-painted eggs. There was still a place for the mass-produced candy-filled ones that had supplanted their more traditional counterparts, but by next Easter I intended that every human household receive at least one hand-painted egg, more if we could manage.

I never yelled at my workers, and I gave them encouragement wherever possible. I couldn’t say if that had anything to do with it, or if it was the increased stamina from the potions, but productivity went up more than twenty-five percent.

Etta, Honey, and I moved in together. Instead of working with me Honey pursued a new career as a seamstress, she displayed an aptitude for it that surprised us all. It was just as well. There was a real clothing shortage with the wave of transformations and no one wanted to wear their drab old outfits, anyway.

Etta helped manage the factory, and during lunch breaks we made time for each other, which is to say we fucked like the bunny rabbits we’d once been, and Honey, always eager to join in the fun often showed up to participate in our escapades. At first, she was just our little play thing, but over time she showed a great deal of remorse for the way she’d treated me, and I, in turn, for manipulating her. Without quite knowing how, we found a place for her in our hearts. The three of us married the next spring.

I don’t know if my father would approve, but I tried to honor him in whatever way I could. It was a shame he hadn’t lived to see me at last embrace the responsibility he’d wanted for me all along.

Santa Babe 2: Elfsurrection

Author's Note

I didn’t think I’d finish this one in time for Christmas, but inspiration struck at the last minute and I managed to finish it off this morning. Please note, that like the first story in this series, Elfsurrection is far more fetishy than my usual offerings.

A slow smile found its way onto my lips, and I licked them winking at Arcadius Noel who kept sneaking furtive glances at my chest. I couldn’t say I blamed him, I wasn’t wearing much. A candy-stripe bra, matching leggings, black stiletto heels, an elf-green mini-dress, and a matching stocking cap were all that adorned my frame and a girl with my proportions was a rare sight in the North Pole. Elf women were flat-chested and possessed hips almost as narrow as their male counterparts. Transformed by the Aphrodite Potion, I was the epitome of feminine beauty. Was it any wonder the old elf couldn’t keep his eyes off me?

“Samson Twinklebottom!” Greogira Glittertoes screamed out at the head of the table.

I turned, clenching my jaw at her use of my former male name, and regarded her with cool eyes. Even before my change I had not cared for the elder, though the youngest of the council, she was the most conservative and the most steeped in tradition. She would, of course, be the one most threatened by my transformation.

I stood before the council of elders, the governing body of the Elves of the North Pole. One seat, remained empty, a padded, human-sized affair that belonged to Saint Nicholas, but given that our employer was the subject of this gathering, and her transformation from rotund sad sack to busty babe, it seemed doubtful she would be in attendance.

“I will not tolerate distractions!” Greogira added rising to her feet and peering across the table at me.

Though, I now towered over her because of my transformation, I shrank back unprepared by the intensity of her gaze.

She might have been pretty if a scowl didn’t crease her ageless face, which was unmarred by wrinkles or age spots. Elves did not age in the way of humans. The only sign of the passage of time, was the gradual graying and eventual whitening of the hair, and among males, the ability to grow facial hair. All who sat on the council sported a shock of snow-white hair, and all save the councilwoman possessed a matching beard.

“Now, now, Greogira,” Bernaldo Mugginbubbles rose to his feet, a chiding tone in his deep baritone voice. “Do remember that young Samson, is under the influence of a powerful magic.”
Greogira glowered at him, but only regarded him for a second before returning her attention back to me, her scowl deepening tenfold. “You have failed to carry out your duties as a helper elf. We tasked you to watch over the Santa Claus, ensuring only that he completed his gift-giving role and not get into any mischief. You have allowed both yourself and our exalted leader to be transformed into some kind of sex-crazed bimbos by that insidious concoction and have jeopardized everything toward which elfkind has worked for these countless centuries. Do you not understand the seriousness of this situation?”
I gritted my teeth, my anger simmering just below the surface. Though Santa was quick to jump in bed and delighted in her new appearance, she was far from a bimbo and was not intellectually deficient. The potion did not diminish intelligence or change an individual’s overall personality. Yes, Santa possessed the same body and sex-drive as a centerfold in a dirty magazine, but every attribute that made her the Claus was still there. She was just wrapped in a prettier package.

Until her transformation, Santa had been a drunken shell of her former self, but walking in on your wife of countless centuries boinking Jack Frost would do that to a fellow. The new Santa was most definitely an improvement. Something about her transformation had brought that glimmer of child-like joy back into her eyes. She had been just doing the motions for so long, I’d almost forgotten what the old Santa had been like.

Hands caressed my shoulders, and I shivered as lips brushed my neck. I turned, a smile creasing my lips as I met Santa’s gaze. She wore the same white-trimmed red-velvet minidress and knee-length boot she’d been sporting while delivering gifts and a shiver worked its way down my spine at the sight of her.

Just a day ago, the mere thought of Santa transforming into this leggy brunette with wide-hips and large breasts would have seemed laughable, but now that the change had come about I couldn’t imagine her any other way.

“They won’t know what hit them,” I whispered, kissing her on the lips. I closed my eyes, letting myself be swept away by the sensations. When she pulled away, I didn’t want it to stop, but I bit back my disappointment and watched her saunter toward the council of elders.

“Nicholas,” Greogira nodded at Santa, her expression blank, but fire still smoldering in her eyes. “I was just—”

“Greogira,” Santa said her otherwise plump lips pressed into thin lines. “There’s no need for a recap, I heard everything.”

Greogira flinched as if Santa dealt her a physical blow, her whole body trembling. In living memory no elf had crossed Santa. Even for her to say as much as she already had bordered on scandalous. Even now, facing Santa in her new feminine form she could not bring herself to speak against the old gift-giver.

There was a scuffle and a clatter behind the old elf, and Greogira turned revealing the slender form of Eros Butterbee, with a tray of drinks and pastries. “Um, mistress I thought you might be hungry.”

Butterbee was the shortest elf I’d ever met, a mere eighteen inches tall, he was more than a century older than me. He worked in the kitchens, a thankless job that kept him busy throughout the seasons feeding the army of hungry elves, but one which he seemed to enjoy.

“Thank you, Butterbee.” Greogira eyed the diminutive elf before waving him off with a disdainful flick of her wrists. “Begone.”

The kitchen elf, glanced toward Santa and me and set the tray on the table, a strange mix of wonder and confusion in his eyes, before he scurried away and disappeared from sight. Santa furrowed her brows, peering at me, but if she knew what I had planned she didn’t say a word.

Elves love sweets so much, we eat almost nothing else. As magical creatures we aren’t susceptible to human failings like diabetes or tooth decay and given that we had a sweet tooth that surpassed even that of the most voracious of human children, we indulge whenever possible. Even a sourpuss like Greogira would not let the opportunity to treat herself to a pastry or a piece of candy slip by.

Greogira selected a tall goblet, no doubt filled with some fruity sugar-coma-inducing concoction, and a danish, before passing the tray along to Wilbur Jellyfluff, the only member of the council who had yet to speak up. Jellyfluff made his own selections before passing his tray onward, nibbling on a cherry tart as he rose to his feet.

I eyed the tall elf, my heart skipping a beat watching him nibble and waited on bated breath to see what would happen. My head jerked sideways and I regarded Santa, but she did not turn to meet my gaze. We separated the moment we’d returned to the North Pole and I had just enough time to nab some potion and enlist Eros Butterbee’s aid before the council had summoned me. I’d thought to inform Santa of my plans before then, but the opportunity had not presented itself. In any case, she would discover the truth soon enough.

At almost four feet tall, Wilbur Jellyfluff cut an imposing figure for an elf, and he was the most well loved among the council members, but he too was a traditionalist albeit one with a kinder disposition than Greogira.

“Nicholas,” a gentle smile stretched across his face. “What are we to do with you?”

“Exactly what we’ve always done, Wil,” Santa answered back massaging her neck and emitting a soft moan. “You make the toys and I deliver them, but please won’t you call me Nikki?”

“This won’t do, I’m afraid. Greogira despite her lack of tact is right. Imagine the scandal it will generate amongst the mortals. Santa Claus become a sex-object? We’ll never hear the end of it from the social justice warriors or the Christian fanatics. Allow us to examine you, perhaps with some time we might undo the effects of the Aphrodite formula and return you to your proper form.”

Santa narrowed her eyes, and clenched her fists at her side, regarding the council of elders between gritted teeth. “For over a decade you have let me drink myself into a stupor, not once attempting to render the aid and compassion I needed. Now, that I have been reborn, and found a new measure of happiness, you wish to take it away from me? No, Wilbur, I won’t allow it.”

“Then we—.” Jellyfluff groaned and hunched over clutching at his stomach. He collapsed atop the table before him, tart dropping from his hand, its cherry filling splattering all over the ground.

Greogira and Bernaldo were on their feet and moving toward the other council member, but the former soon hunched over, disappearing from view on the other side of the table shrieks of pain reverberating through the chamber. The latter fell to his knees, the skin on his face rippled and contorted and a soft and far too feminine moan escaped his lips.

Only Arcadius Noel remained seated, throwing out both hands and howled in agony as he too underwent the first stages of his transformation.

Wilbur shrieked and I turned back in time to watch him jerk back to his feet. His arms flailing about and grappling with the front of his tunic. He pulled it free just in time, for a budding set of breasts to materialize upon his flat hairless Elven chest. His bones cracked and popped as his torso extended, and he fell chest first, atop the tabletop. Hips exploded outward, fat appearing as if from nowhere his stockings ripping open unable to accommodate his burgeoning human-sized and very feminine proportions.

Greogira raised her head then, sporting a head of chestnut-brown hair, and threw a set of human-length arms across the table to balance her tiny Elven frame. She moaned, her frame shooting up as her legs and torso extended outward, just moments before her breasts and hips swelled to match her enlarged frame. She groaned and collapsed atop the table her transformation, less severe and thus complete.

Wilbur howled once more, bearded face contorting as hair began to fall from it in clumps, revealing his flat unremarkable features. A loud crunch sounded and his face bubbled out, growing to match his already human-sized form, but also becoming softer and rounder. His large flat nose, reshaped and remolded itself, worry-lines smoothed out and as his snow-white hair disappeared altogether, honey blonde hair spilled out in ringlets, cascading past his shoulders and down his back. Thin lips plumped out and a low and still very masculine moan escaped his lips. Then his voice, cracked and his prominent Adam’s apple receded into his throat disappearing altogether. He jerked, a loud pop reverberating through his spine, and he leaned forward, emitting a much more suitable feminine groan as his spine curved and his posterior ballooned out.

A scream sounded from the end of the table and Arcadius Noel lurched forward falling across the table and over the side, rolling onto his back. I knelt down beside him, surprised to find that there was only the barest hint that potion had begun its work on him. I don’t know if there was something he’d consumed that might have slowed down the progress or if perhaps something about his physiology had caused it, but whatever it was, it didn’t last much longer.

Bones snapped and popped and I reached out cupping both hands around one of his, smiling down at him in reassurance. I’d undergone a very similar transformation, and I understood all too well how painful it could be. That beings said, I would not take back what had happened to me for all the world.

For whatever reason, the order in which someone transformed varied from person to person. I soon found his hand, ballooning out within my own, but neither of his arms nor his other hand followed instead, his face rearranged itself. His flowing white beard, maintained over so many centuries fluttered away, seeming to disappear into the open air. His rugged, sharp-edge features dissolved, and his long comically over-sized nose shrunk down even as the rest of his face expanded outward. Fire-red hair spilled out from atop his head stopping at his shoulders. Lips parted, but no sound escaped instead they plumped out, and a crack resounded inside his neck as it reshaped itself.

Arcadius’ left hip swelled out, stretching his tights until they tore open, but the right side did not follow, at least, not yet. One side of his chest, expanded and I slid my hands out, cutting opened the front of his tunic with a work knife procured from within my left boot, to make room for his contorting proportions. The right side of his chest ballooned out, a single breast occupying his otherwise flat chest. His arm came next, at last stretching out to the proper proportions for his hand. The second arm followed, but this time the changes stopped when they reached his wrist.

A waistline, previously untouched, expanded outward, narrow by human standards, but much wider than any elf alive possessed. At last, his other boob swelled out to the same size as the first and granted his form a degree of symmetry. His torso extended outward and first one leg then the other stretched out to match it, before her last hand creaked and popped coming to match the first.

Arcadius screamed, a high-pitched wail so loud, it forced me to cover my ears. He grappled at his privates and I watched unable to keep myself from shivering in anticipation as I realized how close he was to completing his transformation. Soon, he emitted a long breath of air and his attention shifted from the space between his legs to his remaining hip which had swollen outward. My attention, however remained on his privates where the outline of a lovely camel toe showed beneath his hosiery. Soon, Arcadius had completed his transformation, his spine realigned to more feminine proportions and his feet, swollen to a size more befitting his taller frame. I beamed down at him and held a hand out.

He hesitated and then grasped my outstretched hand, his or rather her, bare chest jiggling like a bowl full of jelly as she rose to her feet. A hand, again, touched my shoulder and I turned to regard Santa swallowing hard. Her eyes were wide, shock reflected at me.

Nikki turned, and my eyes followed her gaze. Greogira, Wilbur, and another young woman, sporting a shock of long raven-black hair that fell well past her knees, I assumed was Bernaldo, approached. Though each had grown to more human proportions, a side-effect of using a potion intended for humans, Bernaldo was the shortest of the three coming in at just under four and a half feet tall. Greogira stood only a few inches taller, and Bernaldo towered over the pair of them almost six feet tall. They looked human for the most part, save for their ears which kept their telltale pointy tip.

A familiar scowl marked Greogira’s face, but it did not mar her features as it did before. Still recognizable, her features had nonetheless softened and there was no doubt that she was beautiful, even with her teeth clenched. It did however, make her seem less the wrathful elder and more a petulant child. Wilbur approached with a frown one hand kneading an exposed breast. Bernaldo followed not even looking up one arm folded across her chest, the other clasped over her vulva offering only a modicum of modesty and her cheeks turned such a bright shade of red it was a close match to tattered remnants of her scarlet tunic.

“This only proves our point!” Greogira said jabbing a finger into Santa’s chest. Whatever reservations she had about confronting Nikki had evaporated away with her transformation. “The Aphrodite Potion has clearly affected your judgement. Nicholas would have never drugged one of his elves let alone four of us.”

“That was my doing.” I smiled stepping between Nikki and Greogira.

“Regardless, even you Samson would not stoop so low,” Greogira countered this time rounding on me.

“I-I don’t know,” Wilbur said slipping a hand between her legs as a dreamy smile stretched across her lips. “It feels pretty good.”

Greogira snapped her head around, both hands on her hips as she stared at her peer with wide eyes. “Get a grip on yourself Wilbur, the potion is messing with your mind.”

Wilbur smiled a soft moan escaping her lips as two fingers caressing the insides of her lady parts. Greogira rounded on her, latching both hands around the other elder’s arms and shook her so hard the other’s head snapped back. Wilbur, stared at her wide-eyed and I thought for a second she might have reached her, but then the dreamy smile returned and Wilbur leaned in to kiss the other woman.

Greogira stiffened like a plank, even her lips remained frozen in place, but her resistance soon melted away against the other woman’s continued efforts. As they broke for air, a soft moan escaped her lips.  “I never imagined.” She shivered, biting her lip and took several steps back.

I folded both arms across my chest and smiled, regarding Greogira and each of the new women my eyes lingering on Bernaldo who still refused to make eye contact with any of them. “You’ve each received a small dose of the Aphrodite formula. In a few hours, or a few days, depending on how much you consumed you should revert to your original forms.” I slipped a hand inside my bra, producing four small vials of a familiar pink fluid. “Should you wish to make the change permanent, I do believe we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

Arcadius who had remained off to the side throughout the confrontation, peering down at her hands and shook her head. “I can sense them, the sensations, the desires swelling within me. It terrifies me, but…” She lurched forward, and whipped a hand out, sliding one of the vials from my outstretched hand, pulled the stopper free and downed it in one gulp. “I never want to go back. It feels too good.”

We all peered at her with wide eyes. For Arcadius to make such a quick snap-judgement seemed so unlike the brooding, taciturn man we all knew. She licked her lips and peered at me with an arched eyebrow a suggestive smile creeping its way onto her face. “There isn’t a male version of the Aphrodite formula sitting about is there? I would dearly love to spend some alone time with a nice big hunk of a man, if you catch my drift.”

“No, but with your support, I’d like to resume production of the Aphrodite formula. If we bring the original creators onboard, I’m sure they can… come up with something that will whet your appetite.” Santa cleared her throat, answering before I even had a chance, her ruby red lips stretching into a smile.

At this pronouncement, Bernaldo’s head jerked up, and she peered about glancing at all of us. She didn’t speak a word. Instead, she took several steps back, spun around on the balls of her feet and took off running her long locks trailing after her. The look on her face telling me all I needed to know.

I watched her depart, then paused long enough to slip all but one of the remaining vials into Santa’s hands and took off after her. I knew all too well what she must be going through and could guess why she’d fled. That being said, if she reverted to her old form, she could rally the rest of the denizens of the North Pole against us and ruin everything. That I could not allow.
 

 
As you might imagine, running in stilettos is damn near impossible, a fact I came to realize as I burst out of the council chambers and face-planted onto the hardwood floor. The resulting flash of agony from my chest left me breathless for several long minutes. I groaned, rolled onto my back, hugged my knees against the chest, gritted my teeth against the resulting burst of pain, unclasped the straps holding the shoes in place and tossed them aside. I lurched back to my feet prepared to resume my pursuit, but the corridors were silent and I could detect no sign of the elder elf’s passing.

I sank my teeth into my lower lip, again ignoring the resulting flash of pain, my mind racing as I tried to put myself into Bernaldo’s mind. She might have gone for help, but I knew precious little about her. The elves did not possess any policing agencies, lawlessness was not a predilection toward which we were inclined. So, she would flee to the home of a friend or family member or… I stopped a smile creeping across my lips as realization dawned on me. She wasn’t running with any plan in mind; she was fleeing out of fear. No, it seemed far more likely she would return home and since I knew she never married, it seemed unlikely there would be anyone waiting for her when she reached her destination.

I took off running barefooted and better able to keep my balance, but unprepared for how much my bounteous chest would bounce while I moved. I could measure my time spent in my female form in hours, not days or months. The Aphrodite formula granted me a fair bit of confidence and understanding of how to move in my new form, but familiarity was not something I’d developed just yet.

I burst out of the exit, shivering against the cold, bare feet pounding against the frost-covered peppermint-striped pavement, bouncing breasts aching with each new movement. Still, I kept running my feet raw and scuffed and heart hammering in my chest. Soon enough, I caught site of footprints in the snow, toward Bernaldo’s cottage and I veered off catching my second wind as I went tearing thorough the winter landscape.

No elf had feet that large. In her eagerness to get home, Bernaldo had elected to take a more direct path and had given herself away. I guessed right in assuming she would flee to her cottage instead of seeking aid.

I reached the house a few moments later and stepped onto the porch, hesitating as I reached for the doorknob. This felt wrong, Bernaldo had done nothing to harm me and I doubted she would seek aid once she’d sequestered herself within her cottage. Maybe, I was approaching this from the wrong angle, I mused, hand turning the doorknob. The potion transformed her, in the same way it changed me just a short time ago. She needed my help, and here I’d been chasing after her as if she were a convicted felon.

I slipped inside the door with no issue. As I said earlier, crime did not exist within the North Pole and we respected each other’s privacy… mostly. I closed the door behind me, and paused just inside listening for sounds of movement, my keen Elven ears picked something up within seconds and I crept deeper inside, eyes scanning the interior.

Bernaldo’s cottage was small, and I made my way to the back, stopping just outside a door, through the cracks of which light poured through. I put my ear to its hardwood surface, and a muffled sob spilled through. Waiting no longer, I turned the knob and stepped inside. The other elf was slumped on the ground, still wearing the tattered remains of her tunic and tights. She lurched to her feet ready to bolt for the door when she caught sight of me.

I held my hands up and out, taking careful steps before swinging the door shut with the back of my elbow. “Look, I know you’re afraid, and confused as hell, but I can help you. I went through it myself last night,” I said realizing that it was now well into the early morning hours as I spoke. “I don’t want to—”

“Fuck me,” she yelled, screaming out at the top of her lungs, eyes wide and looking for all the world like an animal confronting a predator. “I can’t contain it anymore, just help me release it.”

The Aphrodite formula had that affect. Santa had gone through her own metamorphosis while delivering presents to a widower and his young children. It had taken her less than a minute to seduce him, and moments later when I underwent my change it had taken little for me to join in. Over the course of the night, Santa and I had seduced a lingerie model, a college freshman, and a set of identical twins. Not to mention the number of times we’d fucked or made out inside the sleigh between stops.

Bernaldo straightened and the terror that marked her face before, faded away. She smiled and sauntered toward me, her lips finding purchase around mine. When she broke for air, she pushed me down atop her bed, in the back of my mind it occurred to me that it was much too small for our human-sized frames, but she was already unclasping my bra. Her lips, were soon kissing my breasts, and when she plunged her fingers inside my clit the pleasure that followed was indescribable.
 

 
I sat up, a soft groan escaping my lips as I fought to come awake. Hair covered my face and I reached out collecting it with my hands before slipping it behind my ears. That seemed odd, but I was pretty much dead in the water so I couldn’t quite grasp why. I peered down at my chest, sucking in my breath as I looked down at a pair of bare breasts protruding from my chest.
It all came back to me then, and a slow smile crept onto my face as I recalled my transformation and all the fun I’d had since taking on my new form. I cupped my melons and craned my neck about eyes scanning the room for my discarded clothing and Bernaldo. Neither were in evidence, nor was the vial of Aphrodite formula.

There were blankets and pillows strewn about the place and I didn’t care to dig through them to retrieve the discarded articles of clothing. Modesty didn’t have the same hold on me as it had before my change and so I shrugged and slipped out of bed, peering about the room one final time before sauntering through the doorway.

I found Bernaldo in the living room seated atop an old couch, a vial of pink fluid clutched in her hands. She’d yet to revert to her male form, and she looked out of place perched atop the elf-sized sofa. The other elf looked up at me as I approached, and I seated myself beside her and smiled.

“This isn’t me,” she said motioning down at herself tears rolling down her cheeks. “But I want it to be too much. It terrifies me, that if I take this I’ll lose myself, that I’ll give myself over to the desires and urges of this body. Like I did last night.”

“So?” I asked peering back at her. “What’s wrong with having a little fun? You’re still you, you’re just in a prettier wrapper. Last night, I saw Santa returned, the drunken bitter jackass I’ve had to contend with the last ten years gone, and the Jolly gift-giver of old returned. She is the Clause, just as I am that moldy old stick in the mud Samson, I happen to be a fair bit easier on the eyes and will fuck almost anything that walks on two legs. My appearance and sex drive doesn’t change who I am… it makes things more interesting.”

Bernaldo bowed her head, but didn’t speak again. I reached over, sliding the vial from her hands and held it in front of her face. “Look, if you don’t want it, that’s fine. Give Santa your full support and—”

Bernaldo sobbed and I froze watching her shake her head. “I’ve been alone so long I forgot what it felt like to hold another in my arms.”

She reached for the vial and I let her have it. Again, she held it before her and she tightened her grip pulled her arm back and I tensed expecting her to throw it across the room. She peered at me, sighed, and uncorked the bottle, downing the contents in one gulp. She looked back at me, eyes wide and her hands shaking. The vial clattered to the ground shattering at her feet.

“You won’t regret it,” I smirked, pecked her on the cheek and glanced back over my shoulder toward the bedroom door. Perhaps a little celebration was in order, but before I could voice this thought a series of dull thumps sounded from the exterior door.

I kissed her again, this time on the lips and rose to my feet. Bernaldo was still in something of a fragile state and I don’t believe she was quite ready to entertain. “You stay there, I’ll get it.”

I swung the door open and found myself peering down at a minuscule little morsel. An elf who’d undergone the transformative effects of the Aphrodite formula, but one who was a fair bit shorter than any of the others at a mere three feet. She froze staring up at my bare chest, and I bit my lip only then realizing that I was still naked.

“Sammie!” She beamed up at me, gazing at my figure with an appreciative expression. “It’s me, Eros! I’m going by Daisy now!”

I bit my lips waving her inside the cottage. Eros or rather Daisy Butterbee had been far more eager to help me than I expected and when she named her price I’d been more than a little flabbergasted. She wanted a full dose of the potion for herself, something I’d not expected of her, but when she confided in me she had long been fostering a secret yearning to be female, I was more than happy to accommodate her.

“Is it done?” I asked slamming the door shut behind her and shivered against the cold.

Butterbee nodded, eyes locking on Bernaldo on the couch. “How about you, any luck?”

“Yeah,” I replied arms folded across my chest smirking back at Bernaldo.

“Great!” Butterbee beamed, pulled her top over her head and tossed it aside with a flick of her wrists. “I’ve been itching to give this new body a whirl.”

Bernaldo regarded her a moment before dashing to her feet, scooped the diminutive elfup, and carried her into the bedroom without a word. I stared after them, my smirk stretching into a grin as Bernaldo’s moans sounded through the doorway. I sauntered into the room, eager to join in and soon she wasn’t the only elf screaming out in pleasure.

The End

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Virtually Twisted (Revised) | Pt 38

Part 38 – Epilogue

“–In what experts are calling a landmark victory for Twisted rights.” The female reporter’s voice blared from the television as video footage played on-screen of Mr. Hails and me descending the steps of the courthouse.

I muted the volume, a smile spreading across my face as I watched the news report. I shook my head still unable to believe that it was real, or that I was the focal point. Star Capital Realty and Development Corporation, the company that owns the Clearville Mall offered to settle out of court, in exchange for my silence, but Mr. Hails and I agreed that I needed to share my story.

On the surface my case had been a simple lawsuit claiming damages against Star Capital, but Mr. Hails seemed to think there would be more far-reaching implications. Such a victory could pave the way for civil cases like Loving v. Virginia or Brown v. The Board of Education.

Though painful, relating my memories of what happened in the mall in a courtroom for everyone to hear, the tears I shed on the stand helped drive my point home. All of Star Capital’s money and their slick lawyers didn’t stand a chance.

The judge awarded us more money in damages with which I might have otherwise know what to do, but with which I already began to make plans. The cost of higher-education wouldn’t be getting cheaper any time soon, and if the future I envisioned would ever come to pass I would need some of that money to fund it.

At first, Mr. Hails wanted to take on my case pro bono. He insisted that the notoriety alone would be a major career booster, but I persuaded him to take a portion of the judgement. He relented and suffice it to say that I wouldn’t be the only one who would be paying for her college expenses with all the money.

With everything that had transpired, I did a lot of self-exploration and made some decisions about my career path. I wanted to help people and… well, I wanted to follow in the footsteps of my dad. Not Carrie, but the man who took me in and protected me when my own mother wanted nothing to do with me. As you guessed that would be Mr. Hails or John as I was calling him these days.

My mind turned to Jeff Goldwin and those jackasses at the convenience store. One of the first things I asked Megan about after our reunion had been about Jeff. As I already surmised I was premature in assuming I killed him. He tried to pin the whole thing on me, but someone in the park filmed the entire confrontation on their smartphone. Mr. Hails used it as leverage to get the charges against me dropped.

As far as ‘Jet’ and his friends in the convenience store, they didn’t come forward until after the lawsuit against Star Capital and only because they saw my face on the news. Again, video footage saved my ass, this time from the convenience store security cameras. Like Jeff, Jet and his friends had been the ones to face the music. Unfortunately, the worst charges that were levied against them had been disorderly conduct. I would take any victory I could get, even the small ones.

Though I escaped both unscathed, Mr. Hails saved me from the legal repercussions of their actions. It was a sad truth that the victims in situations like mine tended to be ones who faced criminal charges. Namely because no one would stand up for them. Maybe I was meant to help others in the same way Mr. Hails helped me.

I glanced at my reflection, a smile touching my pink gloss-stained lips as the girl in the mirror peered back at me. It took some time, but I put to rest the war between my male and female halves. My masculine half surrendered to my inner girl, and I embraced her with no reservations.

I don’t think any of that would have happened without the help of Dr. Mansfield. Our regular counseling sessions helped me realize that aside from my desire to be pretty and a few weird compulsions I was still pretty much the same old me. I still liked video games, I still ogled girls, and I was as big of a nerd as ever. The only difference being, most people didn’t see past my looks. For some that meant they saw a freak, but for most people in Spiral it meant another pretty face albeit one who looked a little more exotic.

The other big change in my life, was twist-related as well and that too I embraced. As I guessed I would, I took the dive into martial arts. I enrolled in lessons just two short weeks after walking past that studio in the mall and didn’t look back. My sensei told me he’d never seen anyone progress as quickly as me, but that would surprise no one who knew what caused my twist.

Since learning of my interest in martial arts, there had been no other surprises. I hoped that doing a little research of The Rise of the Anthecron the game which triggered my twist, might offer some clues, but I gleaned nothing helpful. Even the character bio for Kalena had been a bust. If there was anything new to discover about my twist, I would have to uncover it on my own. The version of the game I played was a demo and had yet to see a final release. When it did, I would be sure to get a copy. Who knows? I might enjoy it if nothing else.

My attitude towards my twist had changed in recent months and I was beginning to see that despite all the hardship it caused me, it was the best thing to have ever happened to me. I found my father… won over the girl of my dreams and my future seemed brighter than ever. College always seemed like wishful thinking when I lived in Clearville. Now, it had become a very likely prospect.

Armed with my ambitions I started applying myself in school and went from an average student to one of the top in my class. I made new friends and found a family, some of whom were blood and some not, that supported and lifted me up. As devastated as my mother’s rejection left me, she’d never been very supportive. My new family had their difficulties, but when it counted they were always there for each other. I couldn’t say the same for my mother.

Even the twins seemed to have accepted me. I overheard them discussing me with one of their little friends and although they still thought I was an ‘icky girl’ I was ‘kinda nice’ too. Not exactly a glowing recommendation, but an improvement from the accusatory glares they used to level at me. Amanda, was a highlight and while she could be needy and temperamental, she made even my worst days worth living. Drew, seemed pleased to have me around and included me in all the family activities. Our dynamic isn’t what you would expect of a stepfather and stepdaughter. He treated me like a younger kid sister, which was just fine by me.

As for Carrie… The paternity test had been a closer match than anyone had anticipated. Dr. Clark had seemed surprised, but I made perfect sense to me. I looked just like her, after all. Nevertheless, it was reassuring to have confirmation, even if Carrie insisted it wasn’t necessary.

Liz and David had become something of a fixture in my life. Though their visits were less frequent than I’d like, I looked forward to the times they visited. I’d even started learning sign language so I could communicate with my grandfather.

I gazed into the vanity mirror one last time, giving my makeup a quick once-over, and smiled. Though I’d been reticent to give cosmetics a go, because of the price, I had to admit that the results were well worth it. There weren’t a lot of places that sold makeup to match my blue skin tone, but I managed to find a place that custom made it. I lived in Spiral after all.

I moved away from the mirror and grappled with the remote, flicking off the TV mounted on the opposite wall, a recent addition, and tossed it onto my bed. I stopped by the dresser, retrieving an envelope with the address to a certain convenience store scrolled across the front it and my purse. Sliding the former into the latter, I slipped out of my bedroom and down the hallway.

I found Carrie and Drew lounging on the couch in the living room. She was wearing her scrubs from the clinic and he was still sporting the t-shirt and jeans he usually wore out to the job site. I stepped into view, spinning around on the balls of my feet.”Well? How do I look?”

Carrie rose to her feet and rested her hands on my shoulders. “A slam dunk as always.”

I nodded, glancing down at my outfit pleased by her compliment. It was less revealing than my usual fare, but I didn’t want to out-do Megan by too wide of a margin. She was still very much a t-shirt and jeans sort of girl and I always felt so overdressed when Megan and I were out together. I sported a pink halter top and black knee-length-skirt and matching pair of heels.

“Do me a favor, and try not to stay out past ten-thirty, okay?” She asked.

I nodded, biting my lip. Though she made the same request every time I was out with Megan, I was more than happy to accommodate her. “Okay… Mom.”

She froze, her gaze never leaving me. It was the first time I’d called her by anything other than her first name and, I managed to catch her off guard for a change. Eventually, her mouth cracked into a smile, and she turned away wiping a tear from her face.

Before either of us could speak, the doorbell rang, and I tore down the stairs tripping over myself to get to the front door. Somehow I made it without face-planting into the hardwood steps and swung the door open to reveal Megan standing on the other side.

My heart fluttered at the mere sight of her and I stopped momentarily short of breath. Megan was my everything, we’d been through so much together and I couldn’t imagine life without her. Our relationship had raised a few eyebrows because of our age, but I didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought. The way my heart yearned for her whenever I was apart from her was more than just a simple crush.

Our relationship had evolved a lot since my flight from Clearville. It had been a little bumpy at first, due largely to the aforementioned flight, but we’d had a long talk and cleared the air. Megan still thought me a bit dense for fleeing town, but she had come to accept my reasons. She told me all about their own flight from Clearville and the sense of abandonment she’d experienced when I left.

What must it have been like all those years thinking that she was the only twisted person her age in our little town only to discover that not only was there another, but that person also happened to be her best friend? Then I had left, abandoning her just days before she’d undergone her own twist. Was it any wonder she slapped me when we met back up in the mall?

After my mother’s rejection, I understood all too well what Megan had gone through. It tore my insides up just thinking about the pain I’d caused her. I promised myself, and Megan too, that I would never abandon her again. Looking at her now, I found myself reaffirming that vow.

For a change Megan had switched things up. She wore a red button-down shirt, with half the buttons unclasped to reveal her rather generous cleavage, and instead of jeans she wore a pair of tight-fitting black dress pants. Without a doubt it was the most revealing thing she’d ever worn and yet still managed to fit into her tomboy sense of style.

Her cosmetics changed as often as I morphed my clothing and at times it seemed at odds with the way she dressed, but I’d gotten used to it. On that day she’d gone with something relatively conservative, blush, mascara, a little eyeliner and scarlet red lipsticks. The previous day she’d gone with a rainbow effect around her eyes and lips. Needless to say when the two of us were together we stood out in a crowd.

Megan’s twist had been a result of an aborted attempt at a makeover by Allison. She’d experienced a shift in appearance to more closely resemble her cousin and compulsion to wear cosmetics. Aside from that she was more or less the same old Megan which was just fine by me.

If it was possible, the rift between the two girls had widened even further. I didn’t see much of Allison these days, and though I understood much of her behavior was a result of her twist I couldn’t say I was disappointed by her absence. I only prayed that she one day found a way to make peace with herself.

I bit my lip then leaned in to peck her on the cheek. “You look nice.”

“You too,” she beamed back at me. “So what do you have planned tonight?”

I slipped outside, and closed the door behind me, my smile stretching into a grin. “Oh, I have some ideas.”

Virtually Twisted (Revised) | Pt 37

Part 37 – Reunited

Though the girl that stood before me looked far different from the one I remembered, it was Megan. The nose I knew so well, the one which used to be a tad too large for her face had shrunk down to a more dainty and proportionate size. Her eyes were the same brilliant green and her lips just as generous. Her hair was another matter, she was now sporting long blonde locks. I couldn’t say whether it was a dye job or part of her twist, but either way it made her a near twin to her cousin.

Megan was the biggest tomboy in our class, and I hadn’t seen her wear the slightest bit of makeup the entire time we were friends. Today however, it was plastered all over her face. Many people would have thought her drop dead gorgeous, but it was her old face that I’d crushed on all those years.

Her fashion sense, at least, hadn’t changed. She was wearing a plain white t-shirt, jeans and a denim jacket.

Had I not known her better, I might have assumed that it was Allison I was looking at, but Megan was shorter and curvier and she was far less graceful in her movements. She stared at me all doe eyed for a moment. I even saw a tear glistening in her eyes, but then she swung her arm out slapping me across the face.

“IDIOT!” She screamed her feature’s twisting and contorting into an angry scowl.

I probably deserved that.

I was so flustered that I backed right into a mall directory. Carrie called after me, but I held a hand up warning her off.

I glanced back at her panting and with wide eyes. Her features softened, and she moved closer. I put my arms up, not to attack, but defend myself in case she struck again. She reached out, but when I swung my arm out to block her, she forced it aside and grabbed the collar of my dress.

Certain that another attack was incoming, you can imagine my surprise when she pulled me toward her and locked her lips around mine. My face was still throbbing from her blow, but I melted into her arms, nonetheless. When we broke for air, I stood there panting and staring back at her with eyes still wide. I slipped a hand up the side of my face, rubbing my fingers over my jaw and cheek.

Megan frowned, stepping back and folded her arms. “What the hell were you thinking?! Do you know how worried we’ve been! We didn’t have any idea what happened to you! I thought, I lost you!”

Unwilling to look her in the eyes, I lowered my gaze and adopted a pose almost identical to hers. “I thought if I left, it would take some heat off you guys.”

“You’re an idiot,” she repeated and pulled close slipping her arms around me. She put her head on my shoulders and I felt warm tears splatter on my shoulder. “Never do anything like that again, okay?”

“Megan?” A familiar voice spoke before I could respond.

We turned in unison to find Mr. Hails standing a few feet away. The toothy grin on his face told me all I needed to know. I craned my neck around at Carrie, my suspicions confirmed when I caught a knowing smirk on the corner of her lips. Our encounter was not a coincidence. Twice now, Carrie had pulled the wool over my eyes. One of these days, I told myself I would get her back.

I peered at the pair of them, arching an eyebrow. I might have expected more concern from Carrie, given that Megan just attacked me, but perhaps our kiss was enough to dispel any uneasiness, Pursing my lips before jerking forward, I threw my arms out and wrapping them around Mr. Hails.

“It’s good to see you!” I beamed. “Both of you!”

Mr. Hails stood stiff for a second, but then he relaxed and returned my hug. I pulled away looking up at him and glanced back over my shoulder at Carrie. All those years of looking for my father and I did not realize, until that moment, that I couldn’t have wished for a better dad than the one that now stood before me. Though we shared no blood ties, he had been there for me when no other adult would and had stood by me when my mother kicked me to the curb.

I was grateful to have found Carrie, but as we got to know each other and our relationship evolved she was coming to fill the role of a mother more than she ever would a father.

I cleared my throat and took a step back. As much as I wanted to tell Mr. Hails how I felt, it was neither the time nor place. Someday soon, I would make my feelings known, but for now the hug would have to do.

I stepped back, moving back toward Carrie. When I reached her, I held a hand out to her. “Megan,” I said. “This is my father… Carrie Christianson.”

“Shit,” Megan blurted out. “That’s why you could never find her! She twisted into a girl just like you! That’s so rad!”

She stopped, her eyes scanning each of our faces before shaking her head and smiling. “I mean, um, nice to meet you!”

Megan dropped to her knees and peered at Carrie’s legs. Confused, at first, I followed her gaze and caught sight of Amanda peeking out from behind them.

“Who’s this?” Megan asked, a smile spreading across her heart-shaped face and her eyes lighting up.

“This is Amanda,” Carrie answered bending over to retrieve my younger sibling. “She’s my youngest.”

Megan and Carrie, with Amanda in her arms, rose to their feet, and the former smiled at my youngest sibling. “Hi, I’m Megan, I’m Calista’s friend.”

Amanda buried her head in Carrie’s shoulder. “You’re mean!”

I smirked, watching Megan out of the corner of my eyes wondering how she would address the situation. Amanda saw her slap me, and it was nice to see at least someone had come to my defense even if I deserved the slap.

“I’m sorry, did I upset you? Your sister scared me, I promise I won’t do it again, okay?”

Megan looked up at her eyeing her with her big brown eyes and scowled at Megan. Though she didn’t seem convinced, she nodded. “Okay.”

“As much as I hate to break this up,” Mr. Hails said stepping forward, his hands fingering the cuff links on either of his wrists. “I’m afraid I have a job interview in less than thirty minutes.”

Megan arched an eyebrow, peering back and forth between her father and Carrie. “I thought it was after the movie?”

He smirked and then shrugged. Megan rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “So we’re not going to the movie?”

“I’m not,” he said making eye contact with Carrie and nodding.

Understanding dawned on her face and Megan peered back at me a smile touching her lips before she turned back to her father. “Uh, yeah, so I guess I’ll see you tonight.”

Mr. Hails nodded at Carrie, then he turned to me still smiling. “We’ll catch up later.”

I nodded, and he turned away. He’d only taken perhaps half a dozen steps when without even realizing what I was doing I ran after him. I threw my arms around him, and he jerked to a stop glancing back at me with a startled look on his face.

“Mr. Hails…” I froze as I looked up into his eyes. “I-I just wanted to say, thank you… for everything.”

“Of course.” He peered back, surprised reflected in his eyes.

“And… good luck, with the interview, I mean. You’re a shoo-in.”

Mr. Hails sauntered away, and a second later a weight pressed into my side. I glanced toward it just in time to witness Megan slip her arms around my waist and smile. I peered into her eyes and leaned in to peck her on the lips.

Of all the ways I’d expected my day to turn out, this hadn’t even made the list, but that was not a bad thing. Not at all.

We rejoined Carrie and made our way to the theater seating ourselves within the nearly empty auditorium. When the lights turned dark and Megan’s head came to rest on my shoulders, I let out a contented sigh. I’d come a long way to get where I was, and for a while things looked bad. I’d found my father and reunited with the girl I loved even if she looked a little different. What could be better?

As the opening credits rolled across the screen, I took Megan’s hand and squeezed it. I had no idea what the future held, but it had never looked so bright.

Virtually Twisted (Revised) | Pt 36

Part 36 – Mall Meet Up

“Mommy!” Amanda proclaimed tugging on Carrie’s sleeve. “Look!”

I glanced down at about the same time as Carrie and our gazes followed toward my younger sibling’s outstretched finger. Amanda’s eyes were fixed on a rack of frilly pink dresses, off to the side and about a dozen feet away. There was an almost rapturous expression as she stared at them and she began to hop up and down a grin stretching across her face.

“Ooooh, pretty!”

Carrie knelt down beside Amanda and smiled. “Oh, those are nice aren’t they, princess? Remember, Mommy bought you a brand new dress a few weeks ago. Maybe if you’re a good girl, Mommy will buy you another one for your birthday next month.”

The little girl’s features wrinkled and for a moment I thought she might throw a fit. She locked eyes with her mother, and her face softened. She nodded and a big grin spread across her face. “Okay, Mommy!”

I concealed a smile and shook my head. I didn’t realize how temperamental, a girl her age could be until I’d started spending time around my younger sibling. Her behavior, however, was far from predictable. What might invoke a temper one day, she would shrug off the next.

We continued on and I clamped my mouth shut, looking about the store. I didn’t need any clothes. Although I’d already morphed my way through most of my old boy clothes, I could shift into pretty much any outfit I thought of with enough material at hand. Even without my current wardrobe, I could make do with discards from my new family, or even buy the cheap stuff from the clearance rack for pennies and morph them into whatever I wanted. That being said, I hadn’t expected myself to be drawn to the women’s section.

I’d paid little attention to women’s apparel as a boy. One outfit seemed pretty much the same as another. The only ones that stood out were the ones that displayed a bit of flesh or that clung tight to a girl’s body leaving very little to the imagination. When I’d flipped through the wracks, I could barely contain my glee. Ideas for new outfit combinations already coursing through my mind.

I glanced down at myself, contemplating shifting from the pink and white floral sundress I was wearing into something more revealing, but discarded the idea. This was family time, and as much as I was tempted to try out more interesting outfit combinations that sprang to mind when sifting through the racks, those sorts of experiments would have to wait until we were back home.

I didn’t need a reason to come, just browsing the clothing racks alone had been worth the trip, but that was not the reason for our visit. The adjacent movie theater was our ultimate destination, but we needed to kill time before our show.

With Drew at work and the twins at a friend’s house, it was just the three of us girls. That was fine by me. As touched as I was by Drew’s surprise, he didn’t seem the type to appreciate a shopping trip to the mall and subsequent ‘chick flick’ and the twins were a handful even under the best of circumstances. Throw them out in a wide open space like the mall and there was no telling what sort of chaos they might visit upon us.

I smirked at the thought, imagining the towheaded duo enacting a sword-fight with pool noodles or running around the store screaming at the top of their lungs towels draped over their shoulders pretending they were super-heroes. Had I ever been that big of a dork?

It had been a few days since Drew surprised me with my new bedroom furniture and though things still seemed awkward, I felt less like an intruder in his life. Even the twins seemed to have warmed to having me around. Though they still kept their distance, I hadn’t caught them glaring at me in a while. That, at least, was progress.

The mall had just opened and because it was a weekday and most of the stores weren’t open yet, it was rather quiet. I cast my eyes about as we exited the store, my eyes lingering first on a Haglund’s and then settling on a Game Palace. Both were common enough chains, and I would have been a fool not to expect to see them again. That being said, I didn’t expect the reaction it would invoke within me.

Thoughts of my mother and my twist came to me unbidden, and I paused a single tear rolling down my cheek a sob escaping my lips before I could silence it. Carrie turned about and came rushing back toward me.

“Calista? You okay?” She asked reaching out to touch me, but I stepped back and waved her off.

“I’m fine,” I said my voice quivering. Carrie put her hands on her hips and frowned, not looking at all convinced, but nodded and kept her distance.

A weight settled into my leg and I peered down in time to see Amanda enfold her arms around it and stare back up at me with unblinking eyes. I cleared my throat, wipe the tears from my eyes and a sheepish smile touched my lips. I bent down wrapping my arms around my younger sibling before peering back up at Carrie. “F-fine,” I said exhaling slowly. “Seeing some of these stores just dredged up bad memories.”

Carrie nodded, and I turned my attention back to Amanda, extricating her arms from around my legs before hefting her up and standing with my younger sibling in my arms. I groaned from the strain of her weight, surprised at how heavy she seemed. I lost a lot of my strength during my twist, but the strain of lifting her helped drive that point home.

“It’s okay, I protect you,” Amanda said throwing her arms around my neck a soft moan escaping her lips.

I didn’t speak, but hugged her close fighting back tears. Though the proclamation was just a tad silly, it came from her heart and it tugged at the old heartstrings.

My lips began to tremble, and Carrie glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. I pressed my lips together and looked away unwilling to make eye contact. Carrie didn’t speak, perhaps decided that I needed the quiet.

I peered about, glancing from storefront to storefront. None of them caught my eye until we’d strode another ten yards. I stopped, Amanda’s small form still held tight in my arms and stared across the mall and into a small entryway tucked into a little out of the way corner. I might have overlooked it altogether had I not glimpsed movement out of the corner of my eyes.

A man in his late thirties or early forties was leading a class in martial arts exercises. A kid back in Clearville who’d been a huge Judo enthusiast had shown his moves off a time or two. While, it impressed me it hadn’t quite drawn my eye the way it was now. It appealed to me beyond the simple adolescent fascination in which I’d viewed it before. The thought of taking such classes and learning martial arts had real appeal now.

I clenched my peepers shut and looked away. Sucking in deep breaths, I opened my eyes, and forced myself to look away from the martial arts studio. There was no doubt in my mind that this new interest was yet another aspect of my twist. I knew precious little about the game I was playing when I underwent my transformation, but the character customization screen would seem to be the root of my trick and my obsession with looking sexy. What if I’d picked up more ticks from the game than I realized?

We continued on and I didn’t once glance back though I wanted nothing more in the world than to do just that. I bit my lower lip, feeling a flash of pain. That helped distract me and kept me from losing my resolve. I let out a long sigh when out of sight of the studio, but it was already too late. Sooner or later, I knew, I would try it and I would be hooked.

I might have spent the rest of the day ruminating, and brooding over my sudden interest in martial arts if I hadn’t caught sight of a familiar blonde head of hair a few yards away. I stopped. Allison?

I slipped Amanda’s arms from around my neck and placed her on the ground. My heart pounding in my ear, I moved forward deaf to Carrie and Amanda’s cries. When I got close enough, my fingers stretched out to grasp the girl’s shoulders, but before they found purchase she spun around and I got the shock of my life.

“Megan?!”

Virtually Twisted (Revised) | Pt 35

Part 35 – The Unexpected

I stepped out of the salon, glancing over my shoulder and catching sight of my reflection in the glass storefront. A smile touched my lips, and I studied it again, nodding in satisfaction at what I saw.

My hair was no longer solid purple, but streaked with black and pink and styled in what Sally called a ‘messy bob’. It was everything I could have hoped for and so much more. I had conflicting feelings about it, to be honest. Yes, I looked sexy as hell, but I only liked the way I looked because of my twist. It wasn’t me… or, at least, it wasn’t before my twist. I didn’t know who I was anymore, and that scared me more than anything.

The smile faded, and I turned away from the reflection, my lips creasing into a frown. The door creaked open behind me, but I didn’t turn to face the newcomer. I knew without looking it was Carrie. Eager to escape and make sense of my warring thoughts I slipped out when she was paying.

Though, I liked how I looked, I hadn’t realized that it would take so goddamned long. I enjoyed all the pampering at first, but all that time spent sitting in one place, holding still left me feeling stir crazy. I wanted to do something. Almost anything would have been better.

“You look nice,” Carrie said and at last I turned to meet her no longer frowning.

“Thanks,” I replied staring down at my chest. “I’m still a little weirded out, looking like this, and having these compulsions.”

I looked up in time to see Carrie drawing closer. She reached out, enfolding me in her arms and stood there holding me. After a moment, she pulled her hands away and reached up, cupping my face and looking me in the eyes. “I know what you’re going through. It was the same for me. I can’t promise you it’ll be easy, but I can promise I’ll be there every step of the way. Being twisted… or even a girl isn’t the end of the world, even if it seems that way sometimes.”

I nodded, and a single tear rolled down my cheek. She wiped it away and smiled motioning toward the parking lot. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Without another word, we moved to the car and though we didn’t speak for the rest of the ride back, I didn’t mind. Here or there when she stopped the car at a light or crosswalk, Carrie would glance at me, as if worried I’d disappeared when she wasn’t looking, only to offer a reassuring smile and return her attention to the road.

When we reached the house, Carrie let us inside and once we’d climb the stairs, I looked about frowning as I realized the house seemed quiet. A little too quiet.

“Drew!” Carrie called, sighing and dropping her keys on a tray mounted to a wall along at the top of the stairwell and slipped her purse inside a coat closet around the corner.

“Back here!” A voice answered from down the hallway.

“What’s he doing back there?!” she asked peering at me out of the corner of her eyes. When she turned away, I could swear I saw a smile touch the corner of her lips. I furrowed my brows and opened my mouth to speak, but she was already moving down the hallway.

She paused just long enough to motion with her hands for me to follow before disappearing around the bend. I trailed her, heart thumping in my ears, and biting my lip. I had an inkling that not all was as it should be, but as the gears and cogs turned in my head I couldn’t, for the life of me, puzzle out what it might be.

A few feet down the hallway, she was waiting for me, a gentle smile touching her face. “He’s waiting in your room, why don’t we see what he wants?”

That was when all the pieces fell into place and realized what Carrie and Drew were up too. She placed a hand on my back, and another on my shoulder guiding me forward. Though my heart still pounded in my chest and my hands trembled, I didn’t resist.

When the door opened into the spare bedroom, I stopped standing in the doorway, mouth hanging agape and eyes wide like saucers.

A tall white full-size platform bed with a double row of pull-out drawers had replaced the airbed. A matching dresser and a vanity that was a shade or so off but a close approximation of the other pieces of furniture occupied the opposite wall. I peered at the latter, realizing that it looked familiar and stepped toward it to get a better view.

“You like it?” A voice asked, and I spun around to find Drew standing in the closet a tool belt, with a full complement of hand tools, strapped about his waist and his hair matted with sweat.

The closet too had changed, before it had been bare aside from a few boxes left inside. Now, it housed a column of shelves and drawers down the center, two rods on the left, and another on the right. It looked pretty well put together, but I guess that was to be expected since he worked as a foreman for his family’s construction company.

“Still needs some work,” Drew continued thumbing his hammer oblivious that I hadn’t answered him. “Sometime further down the line we can pull out the carpet and slap a coat or two of paint on the wall, but at least for now you’ll be comfortable.”

I glanced down, forcing myself to keep a blank expression on my face as I peered at the dull-green carpet. It was one of the ugliest shade’s I’d ever seen, but I was happy to live with it if it meant a safe place to sleep. I gave the room one final glance, swinging around on the balls of my feet. The bed and dresser looked like they were constructed from pre-fabricated materials and, if the faint scuff marks were any sign, were used. Not surprising, furniture wasn’t cheap, and I’d showed up with no warning.

The vanity, was another matter. At first glance, it seemed to be made of more durable materials, but I’d doubt I know for sure without stripping off the pain. My eyes lingered on it the longest, realizing why it looked so familiar. It was the same one which had graced Carrie’s old bedroom in her parent’s home.

I smiled, turning my attention back to Drew, and rushed toward me step-father, warm drops staining my cheeks. He grunted and stiffened when I threw my arms around him, but soon his arms enfolded me. I whispered ‘thank you,’ over and over into his chest.

“This was all Drew’s doing,” Carrie pronounced after I’d pulled away from the hug, my cheeks already starting to turn a little violet. “He wanted to surprise you while we were away, but it took a little longer than he expected, and…”

“That’s why you took me to the hair salon,” I finished for her with a nod.

“Well, I had a little help from the boys. The new hair looks great. I like it.” Drew grinned at me, and after catching a side-long glance from Carrie added, “I would be remiss if I did not take heed of my blushing bride’s new do. You look fabs, honey.”

Carrie rolled her eyes and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re a dork, Andrew Christianson, but I love you.”

He smiled back and pecked her back on the lips. “You two hungry? Amanda and the twins aren’t due back for a few hours. It may stretch the limits of my abilities, but I think I can handle cooking for just the three of us.”

Drew slipped through the door, and Carrie rolled her eyes before motioning for me to follow. Disappearing through the door a moment later, but I lingered. I looked around the room, one final time, a smile touching the corner of my lips, before I too exited the room closing the door behind me.

Virtually Twisted (Revised) | Pt 34

Part 34 – Salon Magic

“Wow, you look unbelievable!” The woman explained after they ushered me to one of the barber chairs.

I craned my neck around peering up at her with eyes widened and a single eyebrow raised. She had a wicked grin stretched across her face and a set of wide innocent eyes that made her appear surprised. She was pretty, even with the long scar that intersected her jawline on the left side.

I froze, though I saw no malice or ill-intent in her eyes, I wasn’t sure if she intended her exclamation as in insult or a compliment. Her next comment however, put the matter to rest.

“Very exotic. You got a whole sexy-space Smurf vibe going. I think It’s killer.”

“Ummm, thanks?” I replied, the tone of my voice making it sound more a question than a statement.

“Name’s Sally,” she beamed down at me.

“Calista,” I replied glancing back at her with wide eyes.

“You just go through your twist?” she asked reaching for a pair of scissors on the counter.

I nodded. “How can you tell?”

She shrugged. “We cater mainly to twisted here. You see enough of them come and go, you can spot the newbies a mile away.”

“Well, since this is your first post-twist haircut you have anything special in mind?” She asked lifting the scissors in front of her face and cutting at the open air with them.

“Uh, hadn’t given it much thought. This was a kind of spur-of-the-moment sort of thing,” I replied as she pulled out a hair-styling cape and draped it over me.

A part of me, my masculine side, wanted nothing more than for her to shave it all off, but my feminine side, bolstered by my compulsions, had already become my dominant half. I doubt it would surprise anyone which side won out, least of all myself.

To my feminine self, such a change in hairstyle wasn’t just drastic it was unthinkable. That being said, long hair was a pain in the ass, and I was getting sick of dealing with it. For my inner-girl a shorter-hairstyle would not be out of the question which helped bring balance to my warring halves.

I wasn’t well-schooled in anything girl, so the name of the particular style I had in mind escaped me. There was, however, a simple solution to my dilemma. I brought my hand up about halfway down my neck and held it out flat. “Uh, how about something this long?”

Sally furrowed her brows, dropped the hand holding the scissors and reached out to grasp a strand of my hair with her free hand. “You mean a bob? Honey, you have such beautiful hair, you want me to lob it all off?”

“Callie, you sure about this? It could take years to grow it out that long again,” Carrie chimed in from the seat beside me.

I bit my lip, glancing back and forth between the two women catching their doubtful looks before gritting my teeth and nodding “Yeah, do it.”

The hairdresser, frowned putting both hands on her hips and peering at Carrie, no doubt hoping the other woman would override me, but my father only nodded. Sally sighed and shook her head.

“Such a waste,” she muttered under her breath before raising the scissors and lobbing off a big strand.

My stomach roiled at the sight of my locks fluttering to the ground. Asking to have my hair cut shorter was one thing, witnessing it was another. My feminine pride was screaming out in anguish, but it was already too late. I clenched my eyes shut, feeling my whole body tremble as I listened to the scissors hacking their way through my hair. I felt each strand slide down my body before dropping to the ground.

‘You’ll look sexy as hell,’ I told myself over and over in my head. It seemed to help, slowly, I released the breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding, but I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes. Not yet…

Minutes ticked by, and it seemed as if hours passed before Sally announced that she’d finished. When I opened my eyes, I found myself looking at my reflection. I was not disappointed. The change was drastic, but it looked great.

“You like it?” Sally asked peering at me over my shoulder.

“Yeah,” I said studying my reflection and running my hand through my hair. I bit my lip, I don’t know what it was… but something seemed missing.

“Carrie, what do you think?” I asked turning to the chair beside me, only to lock gazes with a little girl about half my age.

My eyes scanned the room, looking for Carrie and I found her seated at a row of chairs parked near the front of the shop which I’d missed when we entered. As soon as we made eye contact, she hopped to her feet and made a beeline toward me. I don’t know if she’d seen something in my face or if she’d just heard me say her name and had been a little slow making her way to me.

When she reached us, I inspected her new do and pursed my lips. She didn’t seem to have done much with her hair, it was a little shorter, but that was the only change I could spot. Then again, her hairstyle suited her, why mess with a good thing?

She reached out, snatching a piece of my hair and rubbing it between her index-finger and thumb. “It’s cute,” she said peering at Sally out of the corner of her eyes. “But it could use a little color. Why don’t we streak it?”

The moment those words left Carrie’s lips, I knew it was what I wanted. I had no experience with this stuff and very little idea what any of the terms being bandied about meant, but when she said ‘streak it’ the conclusion my mind jumped to seemed obvious. I may have been oblivious to the terminology, but, in this case, it seemed like a no-brainer. That being said, it didn’t hurt to get confirmation. If I was wrong, I didn’t want to get into anything I might regret.

So, I looked about hoping and leveled my gaze on a girl about half my age with gold streaks running through her hair.

“You mean like her, right?” I asked nodding toward the girl and watching with a blank expression as they each turned to follow my gaze.

“Yes,” Carrie said regarding me with a smirk, cocking her head, and folding her arms across her chest. “But… maybe something a little more involved than a few blonde streaks.”

I nodded, my mind racing as I considered the possibilities. Already, a picture had formed in my head and though I had no doubts Carrie had something specific in mind, I wasn’t going to let that deter me.

“Yeah,” I said nodding in agreement, a smirk every bit a match for Carrie’s stretching across my face. “About that…”

Virtually Twisted (Revised) | Pt 33

Part 33 – Feminine Possibilities

“So…” I said turning to Carrie. “Did Dr. Mansfield have anything interesting to tell you?”

I’d been debating on whether I should even bring it up since Carrie had left to talk to the doctor. Even after we met back up and made our way to her car, I was still undecided. I was dying of curiosity and that’s what had pushed me to ask.

I reached for the seatbelt heart pounding my ears as I awaited her answer. She started the engine and glanced over at me a smile touching the corner of her lips. “Nothing too Earth-shattering. She’s worried about you.”

I nodded glancing down at my hands, which were by then resting in my lap, and closed my eyes. “She wants me to get counseling.”

“Might not be a bad idea,” Carrie replied.

“Yeah,” I said opening my eyes and turning to smile back at Carrie. “I suppose… she’s right.”

I clamped my lips shut and said no more on the subject. Carrie furrowed her brows, opened her mouth as if to speak and then shook her head as if reconsidering.

She put the car into gear and for several moments neither of us spoke. Carrie broke the silence. “I’ve been thinking, maybe you might enjoy a trip to the hair salon.”

My head jerked sideways, wondering perhaps I’d heard wrong, but she didn’t say a word. My hair was a little unruly, and could use a little trimming and more than a little taming. I hadn’t given any thought to getting it cut or even styled. All at once, a smile crept onto my face and I considered how sexy I might look if my hair were–

I shook my head and refused to finish the thought still a little creeped out that my mind had been twisted in such a manner. Still, I couldn’t resist the opportunity Carrie was giving me. She was testing the waters, seeing if I would be open to the possibility. After all, until recently I’d been a boy. While many men frequented hair salons, few saw it as an excuse to pamper themselves in the way so many women did. I know I hadn’t.

“That would be nice,” I answered after a moment of silence.

Carrie peered at me out of the corner of her eyes, and a smile touched her lips. She didn’t speak, instead she took the next right, cursed under her breath when the driver ahead of her slammed on his breaks, forcing her to do the same, and after following the road another three blocks pulled into a parking lot.

After she’d parked, and we’d vacated the car, I stopped in my tracks a pit forming in my stomach as I caught sight of a store with the words “Envy Us Beauty Parlor” emblazoned in bright pink script across its front. I emitted an audible groan at the pun, but followed Carrie inside.

I’d been in a hair salon or two, but as I peered about, I knew this was no garden-variety beauty parlor. The right and back wall were solid-black and the left wall was solid-pink. The right side housed a row of barber-chairs with bubble-gum-pink padding and each sat opposite a mirror and a small stand, the back wall was home to a row of sinks with matching padded arm-chairs and the left housed a single table about eighteen inches wide that spanned almost the entire length of the wall divided into five different stations by five three-tiered shelves, each station featured a matching set of black chairs, and light built into the tabletop.

Located front and center, just a few feet from the door and in front of us. A pink and black stand housing an old-fashioned register stood before us and a smiling young woman only a year or two older than me, with sky-blue hair and a forked tail that quivered about in the air behind her, nodded in greeting as we stepped through the double glass doors.

More than a dozen different people, all I assumed were women moved about the room or seated along one of the walls giving or receiving beauty treatments.

“Hi, welcome to Envy Us Beauty Parlor I’m Brandy, how can I help you?” The girl’s smile widened and her lips split open to reveal a pair of fangs.

Even a few weeks ago, her appearance would have surprised me, first by her tail and then for the teeth, but after undergoing my twist, transformed into a hyper-sexualized Smurf-demon and encountered a few others with twists as severe as or, in the case of Dr. Mansfield, worse than my own I didn’t even blink. Besides, she was cute and her smile appeared genuine.

“Hi, do you do walk-ins?” Carrie asked.

“Uh, not usually, but we’re having a bit of a slow day, so it shouldn’t be a problem unless you want a mani or a pedi.”

I arched an eyebrow, peering again at the denizens of the salon. She considered that a slow day?

“So, what’ll it be?” Brandy glanced back and forth between the two of us.

Carrie put her hands on her hips, grinned and glanced back at me. “Whaddya say Callie? Feeling adventurous?”

I froze surprised both by the new nickname and Carrie’s playful demeanor. Good God, what had I gotten myself into?

Swallowing hard, I nodded and bit my lip. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well let’s start with a wash and a haircut and see where the wind takes us.” Carrie’s reply again surprised me.

I hadn’t seen this side of her before and I was treading on uncertain ground. This time I didn’t say a word and when I thought of something to say, I was already getting my hair washed.

Brandy brought us up to a pair of women in their mid to late twenties. I was given into Alicia’s care, a tall slender girl with a pretty smile and shock of neon-pink hair that went down almost to the back of her knees and Carrie was assigned to Matty a flat-faced woman with scarlet streaks running through her short-cropped blonde hair. Whether their colored locks resulted from a twist or just a dye job, I couldn’t say and I didn’t ask. It didn’t seem important.

They guided Carrie and I to the back wall and seated with our backs to the sinks. When Alicia reclined my chair, I closed my eyes and let her get to work without comment. She talked as she worked asking my about myself, and about my twist. I suppose that at some point my mother must have washed my hair when I was little, but I didn’t remember it. The experience of letting another person wash my hair was new to me.

I wasn’t prepared for how relaxing the experience could be. It was an experience I wouldn’t mind going through again. I just hoped I had the chance.

Virtually Twisted (Revised) | Pt 32

Part 32 – Creature Comforts

The creature within the room smiled displaying a double row of razor sharp teeth as it closed the door behind me. It was short, about half my height, and moved with an uneven shuffle. It’s body was a patchwork of green skin and tufts of purple hair. A collection of skin and bones, it looked more like an artist’s crude rendition of a gremlin or a goblin than a living-breathing being. I thought for sure it would jump out an attack me, but it merely stood there looking upon me with it’s grotesque wide-toothed grin.

“I’m Dr. Mansfield,” the creature spoke, it’s voice was soft almost melodious and I peered at it my mouth agape. It’s voice seemed an odd match to its grotesque visage and sank my teeth into my bottom lip. I took in it’s features, the slightly widened hips and the pair of disheveled lumps on it’s chest and realized that I was looking at a woman.

“Uh, Calista,” I replied, rubbing the back of my neck.

The doctor slammed the door shut behind me and hobbled toward a desk bathed in the shadows toward the back of the room. “I apologize, but I’m afraid that my eyes are quite sensitive to bright lights. I hope the dark doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

I shook my head, watching the doctor jerk behind the desk, and disappear from sight. It lurched back into my sight a moment later, scratching and clawing its way up the desk and onto what looked to be a cross between a standard rolling office chair and an infant’s high chair.

When she was positioned atop it, she waved me toward her with both hands and pointed toward a seat on the opposite side of the desk. I complied, still feeling a little nervous around this odd little creature, but bolstered by my faith in Carrie. She worked with these people, I don’t think she would let me anywhere near them if she thought they were dangerous. Though the doctor’s appearance was grotesque, she was just the victim of a particularly unfortunate twist.

As if sensing my fears, she smiled, this time without showing her teeth and laughed. “I promise I don’t bite… much.”

I peered back at her, eyes wide before a smile touched the corners of my lips and I let loose a low throaty chuckle. Though it wasn’t terribly funny, it did much to release the tension and I was more than a little glad about that. At least, she seemed to have a sense of humor about her situation, which was more than I could say had I ended up looking like her.

“I’m going to be upfront with you, most of the therapists here rely on computer tests for this part of your exam, but truth be told I’m a little old-fashioned and prefer to interview you face to face. There are a lot of facial and vocal cues that most people make without realizing it and I can learn far more from that than any computer test. Truth be told, the holoscreens hurt my eyes. Since, I’m going to be asking you about yourself, I only think it’s fair you know a little about me.”

I didn’t speak, instead nodded and studied her face. She regarded me with a blank expression. She didn’t speak at first. Instead, she thrummed her clawed digits on the desktop. Finally, she exhaled and began to speak, her voice a little more than a soft murmur. “I’m sure you’ve surmised that I’m twisted, like yourself. I was born in the South and was raised in a time when the twisted weren’t as well publicized and most people believed us to be little more than an urban legend.”

I blinked, caught off guard by this admission. She must have been among one of the earliest generations of twisted. Her appearance was so strange, that I couldn’t begin to guess her age, but for her to have been alive during that time she wasn’t exactly a spring chicken.

I leaned forward already eager to hear more. “My father and mother were both survivors of the Antarctic Flu outbreak. At the time, nobody understood what caused people to undergo twists, and I grew up a more or less ordinary life unaware of the fate that awaited. It happened about midway into my teen years, my younger sister was terrified of the goblin she claimed lived in her closet. We didn’t get along particularly well and I thought it’d be funny to play a little prank on her. I waited inside her closet one night prepared to jump out when my father did his nightly check for the goblin. Unfortunately, that night when he did so, he found me… looking like this. I had underwent my twist,” She motioned down at herself and let out a long sigh.

“I fled, terrified of what I had become, and even more afraid of what my family would think. I never returned. I learned to fend for myself, living in abandoned homes, and dark alleyways. Anyplace where I could remain hidden. I discovered a unique power within myself, I could for short periods of time, make myself invisible. I made use of my trick to feed and clothe myself by stealing whatever I needed. I wandered from town to town, and state to state. I had little contact with other people, but the times I went out to retrieve what I needed to survive I began to hear murmurings of the twisted, and a place where some of them began to gather.”

“Spiral!” I blurted out, biting my tongue when I realized I’d interrupted her, but she only nodded and continued with the story.

“Although I was still only in my late teens, I had already grown quite cynical. Even now, I’m not sure what convinced me to come to Spiral, but when I did, I discovered that the stories were true. Unfortunately, even the other twisted were afraid of me. A few showed me kindness, however, and a family whose son whose twist was nearly as severe as my own took me in. For the first time in years I had found a home.”

“My new adoptive family encouraged me to go back to school and so I did. I completed my high school education and that might have been the end of my schooling had it not been for something quite unexpected.”

She paused a slow smile spreading across her face. “I hadn’t thought of my family in years. They seemed part of another life, and I did not believe I had any hopes of ever seeing them again. Why give myself false hope? So you can imagine my surprise when one day, I encountered my father. He recognized me at once and I fled from him fearing what he would do having found the creature that had ambushed him within his daughter’s closet. At first, my fears seemed confirmed as he chased after me, but then he called my name.”

I fought down my fear and confronted him. It seems my family had puzzled out that the goblin in my sister’s closet and I their oldest daughter were one and the same. In retrospect it seemed obvious. Their arrival in Spiral however was a coincidence. It seemed… that my sister had also undergone her twist. Though not severe, by most standards the change was significant enough to drive my family from our hometown. Like me, they had heard of Spiral and fled here hoping for sanctuary. They had not expected to find me there, and had all but given hope of seeing me again.”

“Reunited with my family, they encouraged me to interact with other twisted and I met many with stories similar to my own. No longer content to live in the shadows, I decided to do something with my life. I thought, perhaps, I could help others like myself and so I did…” She grinned clasping both hands atop the desk. “I won’t bore you with the rest of the details. Suffice it to say that I had to work hard to get my degree and get where I am now. I have been counseling twisted ever since.”

I eyed Dr. Mansfield and studied her knotted features. Her story had been interesting enough to keep my attention and the parallels to my own were obvious, but as she gazed back at me I wondered why she had felt the need to tell it to me.

“Now, why don’t you tell me about yourself?” The question hung on the open air and I paused realization dawning on me. She’d told me her life story to put me at ease. Probably in the hope that I would be more open to telling her about myself. Well, I shrugged, if that was her intent I guess she was about to get her way.

The moment I started talking I could hear her scribbling something on a notepad, but I didn’t let that stop me. I started giving her a little bit of my background, telling her about being raised by a single mother and my friendship with Megan. Before long I jumped headlong into the story telling her everything starting with my twist and ending with my arrival in Spiral. It was no easier to share than the last time, but I did keep myself from breaking down in tears.

Again, I refrained from mentioning Jeff and my confrontation with the jackasses in the convenience store. I worried, that as a trained therapist, she’d pick up on the omission, but if she did she said nothing about it.

The doctor leaned back in her chair and I stopped waiting for her to say something. When she did there was a slight quiver to her voice. “I am sorry for what you’ve been through. I can’t promise you it will get any easier, even among the twisted you will stand out in a crowd, but now, at least, it sounds as if you have the beginning of a support system.”

Next, she questioned me on specifics of my story, mostly about my feelings of rejection first from my mother then the people of Clearville, and my emotional state during those events.

She cleared her throat, and leaned forward. “Unfortunately, we don’t have as much time as I’d like. I fully encourage you to seek counseling. The sort of trauma you’ve experience has a way of coming back to you years later if you don’t address it.”

I nodded, but didn’t otherwise reply. She continued speaking a few reassuring words and reiterating the value of psychological counseling before moving on to other things. She started by asking me, what changes I might have noticed in my personality and behavior. I told her everything I could think of which wasn’t much. Mostly I told her about how I liked to wear feminine and revealing apparel, and how I’d been more emotional since my twist. She nodded and jotted in her notepad.

She asked about my trick and how it worked. Personally, I didn’t see how that could be relevant to my emotional state, but the doctor didn’t give me any indication how nor did she illuminate me as to why she’d asked the question.

She followed that up by reciting a number of different words and asking me to say the first thing that came to my mind. That went on for several moments, and she again paused to write something down.

Next, she asked me a series of questions, and state on a scale of one to ten how much I agreed with them. Most seemed harmless enough, but there were a few that gave me pause. I never would have expected her to ask me if I liked intending people harm or that I thought people were out to get me.

When we finished she scurried down the side of her chair and came to stand beside me, smiling and placing a hand on my wrist. Though her appearance was still grotesque I was no longer disconcerted by it. She truly wanted to help people and I could see no reason to fault her just because she happened to resemble a creature out of someone’s nightmares.

“Please do consider counseling, the sort of things you have been through can be detrimental to your mental health. I only work at the clinic here ten hours a week, but I do specialize in situations like your own. I have an office a few blocks away. The front desk can give you the address and phone number.”

I nodded and smiled back to her. “I’ll, uh, talk it over with Carrie.”

“Carrie,” she repeated, rubbing her chin. Though she hadn’t said much when I mentioned my father’s identity. I got the sense that she had been quite surprised. Of course, she must know Carrie if they both worked at the clinic, but there was something more to it.

She pulled her hand away, and started to move away before turning back and regarded me both arms folded across her chest. “Would you mind asking Carrie to come speak with me?”

“Is, there, uh, something wrong?” I asked rising to my feet.

“No… Often times when I speak with a patient, I find it beneficial to consult with their parents. Not only can I make my recommendations to them, it’s helpful to coach them in how they might best help their children adjust to their new situation.”

I nodded, regarded her one final time, and left the room. I had dreaded the psychiatric evaluation the most, but it had been by far the most rewarding of the three. Yes, I had been forced to once again lay myself bare, but after speaking with her for the first time since my twist I felt a little more like my old self.

Virtually Twisted (Revised) | Pt 31

Part 31 – One-Trick Pony

As it so happened, the trick specialist wasn’t at all what I expected. At the very least, it was one of the more interesting visits.

“Come in, come in,” a woman ushered me into the room and I stopped mid-stride unable to bring myself to look away.

The woman that stood on the other side of the door was gorgeous, her long blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders in ringlets and I looked into her bright blue eyes in shock. She looked like she belonged posing in the centerfold of a dirty magazine, and I couldn’t bring myself to accept my imagination hadn’t conjured her up.

I bit my lip and stepped inside the room. The woman smiled and lurched forward hands reaching up to push the door closed behind me. She smiled as I turned to face her. “Hello, I’m Dr. Foster, but you can call me Janet.”

I glanced back over my shoulder, wishing that Carrie hadn’t left, but unwilling to give voice to her absence. The nurse has told us that the trick specialist had wanted to visit with me alone, and I had grudgingly agreed. I should have insisted she come along, but hadn’t wanted to rock the boat.

Janet’s bounteous chest, loomed less than a foot from my face and I stared at it with eyes wide.

“I-I’m Calista,” I said averting my eyes, my cheeks flushed.

“Please have a seat,” she held her hand out motioning at a pair of seats along the far wall.

I complied, seating myself and peered back at her. She grabbed the other chair, positioning it opposite me and sat down, crossing her legs and folding her hands across her lap.

She peered at me, a slow smile touching her lips and she glanced down at a tablet clutched in her perfectly manicured hands. “I’ve been reading your file. It says here you’ve already discovered a trick. Can I see it?”

I nodded, but didn’t speak. Instead, I clenched my eyes shut and concentrated on my outfit. For the third time that day, I shifted my clothes, the fabric slithering and crawling across my skin. When I opened my eyes again, I glanced down at myself, and smirked. I was wearing a simple strapless black minidress.

When I looked back up and met her gaze, she folded her arms across her chest and studied me her eyebrows furrowed. “Well, color me jealous. A trick like that would come in handy. I’d never have to go clothes shopping again.”

She pursed her lips, again, glancing down at the tablet. “It says here you were a boy before your twist. That must have come as a shock.” She grinned, cleared her throat and again peered at the tablet. “I’d say from your choice of outfit, there were a few mental changes as well.”

I nodded, and she slipped the tablet on the counter, letting out a long breath of air. “Could you tell me how your trick first manifested itself?”

I frowned and told her how Mr. Hails had encouraged me to see if I had a trick and in doing what he suggested I discovered it. She listened and nodded when I had finished.

“Tell me how you feel when you use your trick?”

I shrugged. “Well, my skin tingles, like it did when I underwent my twist, only not as intense.”

“I’m interested in this anomalous tissue Dr. Clark has discovered. I think it might have something to do with your trick. Tell me, can you use your trick on other people? Could you say… turn my blouse into a v-neck?” She asked arching an eyebrow.

I shook my head. “I can–” I started say, but stopped thinking back to the gas station. “Well, I can’t change what a person is wearing, but I can– Let me just show you.”

I reached out, clasping hold of her hand and to my surprise she didn’t jerk back or try to draw it away. Again, I clenched my eyes shut, trying for something simple. Some of the fabric from my dress wiggled across my skin, down my arm and onto her wrist. I pulled back and slid my eyelids open to reveal my handiwork. A simple black lace wristlet, about half an inch wide had appeared on her wrist.

When I looked down at myself, my outfit remained more or less unchanged. I saw no difference, but I knew the fabric from the bracelet must have come from somewhere.

She blinked, lifted her arm, and turned her wrist back and forth examine the result. When she glanced back up at me she arched an eyebrow.. The doctor remained silent for what felt an eternity then let out a long sigh and smiled. “I think I understand. You can’t change what I’m wearing, but you can shift clothing onto me, is that correct?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I… found that out the hard way.”

She pressed her lips together, but did not comment. Instead, she ran her hands through her hair strummed her fingers across the armrest. We sat there for several moments, looking back at one another before she spoke up. “This mystery tissue around your muscles may be related to your trick. It might be why you can’t change other people’s clothing. I’d like to run a more specialized scan if that’s okay with you.”

I paused a moment, not keen on yet another scan, but sucked in my breath and nodded. Though I didn’t understand why the doctor seemed so intent on unraveling this mystery, it seemed best to play along. I suspected that if I ever got into legal trouble over what had happened in Clearville or the gas stop, it would be nice to point to this and show how harmless my trick was.

She guided me over to an exam table where she attached an array of sensors to my skin. She initiated the scan using her tablet and asked me to shift my clothes once every several minutes. When all was said and done I was wearing a purple minidress with a plunging neckline that was the same shade of purple as my hair, and a pair of tall black boots that went up almost to my knee, which I learned later were called wedge boots. She had me concentrate, like I did when I used my trick, and, as I expected, my skin tingled.

After a few seconds, she had me stop and one by one removed the sensors from my skin. She didn’t speak for the longest time, instead moving across the room and set the sensors down on the counter. She kept her back to me, then turned back and studied me both of her arms folded over her chest. “Well, the scan detected a lot of interesting activity. When you use your trick, you call on the quantum field which seems to interact with the anomalous tissue around your musculature. That is why, you can only shift clothing that’s touching your skin.”

“Uh, that’s good?” I said making it more a question than a statement.

The doctor smiled, but didn’t reply, instead she rubbed her chin and glanced back down at her tablet. After another few moments of silence she spoke. “Well, I don’t think there’s anything more we can do here today, and Dr. Mansfield is waiting.”

I nodded and let her lead me out of the room. We traveled halfway down the corridor where we paused and she knocked on a door indistinguishable from the rest. She knocked on the door, and a loud thud sounded from within the room. A moment later, the door slammed open and the rooms occupant stood in the doorway. I swallowed… hard upon seeing the creature and stepped inside the room.

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